Beyond Blue (15 page)

Doc slammed one palm down on the desk beside her, and Linda jumped but held Jerome's eyes.

“Now that, I believe, is the truth,” Jerome said. “I admire that loyalty. But yet, here you are, trying to steal my code book, which you know could put me in a great deal of
trouble. I don't mean to be crude, but how am I supposed to react to that? How should I react to your betraying me this way? Huh? After all I've given you?”

Linda leaned forward, baring her own small teeth. “Just one minute, Mr. High and Mighty. You were a pretty good boss, as bosses go, but every dollar I ever got from you I earned and then some. I kept your secrets and did your dirty work in this office all these months without ever a complaint or question. What I got from you was never more than my due. The only thing you ever actually gave me, Mr. Jerome, was the creeps.”

Jerome stared for a minute, and then burst into laughter. “You are a treat, Ms. Perry. I do hate to lose you. But here it is. I can't let people steal from me, and I certainly can't call the police in this case, can I? Now tell me, can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't let Doc or Psycho here take you out and make you disappear?”

“Well, yes I can,” Linda said. She took a big shuddering breath, thought again about what she would say, and then fully committed. “If you let me go, I can give you the guys who are after you, the two rogue cops who busted in here. I can take you right to them.”

Sunday morning is an odd time in New York City. The so-called city that never sleeps is really a city on several different overlapping schedules. Sunday morning is one of the times when those schedules collide and people from different worlds meet at unlikely cosmic intersections.

One of those intersection points is called Dunkin Donuts. Chastity Chiba sat in a corner booth of one such establishment, nursing a great cup of coffee and watching Amy Brooks lay waste to a box of Munchkins. She was also enjoying some people watching. At this hour, the party people were in at the end of their long evening, catching a last caffeine and sugar fix before heading home from a wild
and unforgettable night that they would soon forget. It was also at this hour that the good folks were just heading out. They staggered in wearing their church clothes, to grab that first caffeine and sugar fix calculated to get them through today's sermon without nodding off in the pews.

There at society's crossroads, Chastity began her gentle interrogation, feeling like a dentist cleaning a sensitive tooth.

“So Amy, what in the world drives you out in the world so early? Back in Japan I used to sneak out to get out of going to church when I was your age.”

Amy stopped mid chew. “You grew up in Japan?”

“Yep, in a little fishing village called Kuro, until I was old enough to go to university in England.”

“You went to a British school? You must be a genius.”

Chastity smiled. “Well, my mom was death on schoolwork. But more important, she had my father's connections, even if she never officially took his name. He was British, you see, and mother was able to contact his family. They, or maybe the people he worked for, made sure I could get the best education.”

“Wow, what a life,” Amy said, washing down another mini-donut with hot cocoa. “I'd trade anything to live in some exotic place like that.”

“And I'd have given anything to have what you have,” Chastity said. “You see, my father disappeared before I was born. I loved my childhood, fishing and diving for pearls, and Oxford was great, but nothing replaces actually having your father with you. He could have taught me so much.”

Amy's eyes clouded over briefly, and Chastity saw conflict there. Chastity decided to push. “Amy? Is there something going on between you and your father?”

Amy looked away, out the window, as if trying to focus on the thin traffic flow outside. “I don't think I want to talk about it.”

“Oh, Amy.” Chastity reached out to take Amy's hand. “I
won't tell anyone anything you want to keep to yourself. But you shouldn't keep things buried inside you. You can tell me.”

“I love Daddy, but he did things.”

Chastity lowered her face toward the table to try to see into Amy's eyes. “Baby, what did your daddy do?”

“Well,” Amy said, and then looked down into her cup as if dredging up an unpleasant memory, “He touched me. He touched me in inappropriate ways. He touched me in places a father doesn't touch a daughter.”

Irv Jerome leaned back in his chair, placing his fingertips together to form a tent. “Do you make your offer out of loyalty to our firm? How very touching.”

“Well, I know how much your friends here want to meet up with them again,” Linda said, “and I figure you'll want to discuss your ledger with them.”

“You know, you're a mighty smart little girl for a receptionist,” Jerome said, leaning forward. “I might almost believe you're willing to betray these men. They are the only currency you have to offer. But what does the little girl expect in return?”

Linda placed both her small hands on the code book. She scanned the faces of the muscle men standing behind Jerome. “I'll be honest with you. I don't expect much of anything from you. But I do expect I'll be pretty unimportant once you see a way to get your ledger back. I expect these three will be pretty occupied getting control of the two troublemakers they tangled with before, and I should be able to slip away during the action.”

“And go where?”

“What do you care?” Linda shot back. “When you've got your property back there's no evidence against you, so I figure I won't be important enough for you to hunt down. As long as I stay underground, I'll be safe. I won't risk my life, or my boy's life, to cause any more trouble for you.”

Jerome began to pace the length of his office, as if turning Linda's proposal over in his mind. From her seat she watched him move left to right and back again like one of the targets in a Coney Island shooting gallery. She knew he would consider every possibility, but his lawyer mind would have to see that her offer was all in his favor.

Across the hall from Irv Jerome's office, Samuel “Stone” Mason snapped his fingers to get his partner's attention. Stone stared through the peephole, his right hand straying to the gun butt hanging from his holster.

“Linda just walked out of the office, with Jerome and his boys following.”

Steele stood with his back to the wall just beside the door, his teeth bared and his big revolver held in both hands, barrel up so its front blade sight almost touched his nose. Stone could smell his excitement.

“Guns?” Steele asked.

“None that I can see.”

“Then open the door and let's do this.”

“Cool down, man,” Stone whispered. “They're headed this way.”

Stone listened to the tap of Linda's heels and the heavier footfalls of the men behind her as they approached. He didn't want to get Steele going again, but he did loosen his automatic in its leather shoulder holster.

Linda drew closer to him, at the head of her peculiar little parade, and Stone was proud of her for never looking directly at the door. As she came level with the door, Jerome quickened his pace enough to walk slightly ahead of her and look back. Stone took a deep breath and nodded at Steele. If they were to make a move, it would be in the next few seconds.

“You're stalling, Ms. Perry,” Jerome said. “Where are you meeting these men?”

“Okay,” Linda replied louder than necessary. “It's an
alley way downtown, just off Liberty Street, right near Malden. One of them is supposed to be there, all alone, but that's not until eleven. Do you suppose we could get something to eat in the meantime?”

Stone tracked Linda's progress down the hall as her voice receded, only releasing his breath after she was out of sight.

“What was that all about?” Steele asked, lowering his weapon. “I'm kind of lost. Like, who's on first?”

“It seems pretty clear,” Stone said. “You're an idiot. Linda's a genius. And we're going to Chinatown.”

“You are something else, chica,” Rafael Sandoval said, leaning back in his chair and cutting another piece of waffle with his fork. “Between your games and your kisses you certainly keep a man on his toes.”

“Hey, on your toes,” Ruby said, chewing on a piece of grapefruit. “That's one way I don't think I've tried it. Maybe, if you keep on being real nice, we'll get to see if you can really make me smile. Or scream.”

“Oh, is that all you want me for?”

“Oh, hell no,” Ruby said. “The real reason I'm here is that I love a man who can cook.”

Ruby sat cross-legged in a chair at the dining table, now covered by one of Rafe's silk robes. Her hair was a riot of disorder. She was feeling about as satisfied as she ever had. The taste of an excellent omelet still haunted her tongue, and the kitchen still smelled of browned butter and sautéed peppers, onions, mushrooms and garlic. She smiled thinking of the warmth in her belly, and the warmth just below it that Rafe had sparked before they decided to cool things down a bit and have brunch.

“You act like no man ever cooked for you before,” Rafe said, reaching to rub the back of her hand. She rewarded him with one of her quick, flashing smiles.

“Truth is, hardly anybody ever cooked for me, sugar. In my house, Mama was always gone and the baby got stuck cooking for the rest.”

Rafe got up to push the button that would start more coffee. There came the grinding sound of coffee beans
being pulverized, then the sweet aroma of the new grounds being bathed in hot water.

“So you're the youngest? And you had to take care of all your sisters? Sounds a little like Cinderella.” Rafe asked.

“Yeah, that's me. Cinder-fucking-Ella!” Ruby laughed her high-pitched laugh. “You sound like you don't know nothing about Latin women. I told you I had nine sisters, baby. Eight were ahead of me, and every one of them wanted to sit on their ass or just go partying as soon as there was somebody smaller to boss around. By the time I came along, I had eight bosses. Cooked for that crowd, washed and ironed for them, and cleaned up after their messes. By the time my only younger sister popped out, most of the bigger girls were gone, so she got off pretty easy.”

“You're putting me on,” Rafe said, pouring coffee into two large white mugs. He added a generous amount of cream to both and padded, barefoot, across the tile floor.

“I wouldn't kid you, baby.”

Rafe delivered the coffee with a soft kiss and a brief hug. “And what were your parents doing while you were cooking for this crowd?”

“Well daddy, he had had enough by the time number ten came along, so he took off. Guess I was three or four, so I never really got to know the bastard.” Ruby's smile became more ironic as she realized how easy it was to open herself to this man.

Rafe simply nodded over his coffee mug. “And your mama?”

“Mama, she crazy,” Ruby said, sipping from her own mug. She didn't know what mix of beans Rafe used, but it was an outstanding cup of coffee. He was certainly an expert in pleasing the senses. Nothing like any drug smuggler she had ever met before.

“Crazy like institutionalized?”

“I should be so lucky,” Ruby said with a derisive snort. “Mama's never been locked up. If she was, I wouldn't have
to support her. And you'd think she'd get rich between telling fortunes and running her other scams.”

“Oh yes, you said something like that before. She really tells fortunes?”

“Reads the cards, reads the tea leaves, the whole nine yards.”

“Now I know you're putting me on,” Rafe said, giving a full, deep laugh.

“Yeah, well maybe I'll introduce you to her sometime.” Ruby stood up and started collecting dishes. “Listen, sweet man, why don't I clean up in here, then we can get ourselves together and you can drop me home. I gotta get myself some sleep so I can stay awake at work tonight. I got the evening shift.”

“Do you really have to go?” Rafe asked, following her to the sink. “You are so exuberant, and such a great teller of stories. Today's guests would just love you.”

Ruby's smile dropped. “Guests? You got company coming?”

“Yes, more of my countrymen will arrive today, and they always stop here for a while. You could help me entertain my guests. Won't you reconsider?” Rafe brushed Ruby's hair aside to kiss the side of her neck. She hardly felt it. Her mind was elsewhere.

“Some more Colombians coming into the country today? Why, yes, I think I would love to meet them.”

Paul Gorman knew that there were things Patsy just didn't understand about him. She didn't get why it mattered that he arrive at the office at the exact same time every weekday morning. She didn't see why it was important to put the peanut butter on one slice of bread and the jelly on the other, as opposed to her anarchist habit of putting the jelly on top of the peanut butter and dropping a second slice of bread on that mess. And she could not grasp the reason for a man getting fully dressed on a day when he
had no intention of going outdoors.

Well, she could spend the day in her nightgown, and he certainly appreciated that, but he was working today. Even though he was in his home office, he had to be in shoes, slacks and a shirt. She should be happy he didn't wear a tie. Still, being dressed put him in a different frame of mind for things like the conversation he was in the middle of with Chastity Chiba

“That was an interesting conversation you had with the little girl,” Gorman told the speakerphone. “Did she say anything else of importance?” He was busily rearranging the books on the shelves that lined one wall of his office. Somehow, a couple of his criminology books had gotten mixed in with his forensics texts. While repairing that snafu it occurred to him that alphabetical by title might make more sense than the present ordering by author's name. The dewey decimal system might not be the right thing for his small library.