Brand New Me (27 page)

And then suddenly, everything seemed to focus on a single point—a man from her table was raising a bottle behind Tom’s head, ready to bash it into the back of his skull.

Deirdre threw herself forward and hit the man in the face with her tray. He blinked at her, shaking his head as if his ears were ringing. Without thinking, she whacked him on the side of his head with the beer bottle, then watched him slump against the table. When she turned back, Tom had reached Chico’s side.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at her. “Get back!”

Deirdre didn’t answer, largely because another man beside her had picked up an empty beer bottle and was headed toward Tom. She tossed the Dos Equis bottle in Tom’s general direction, then hit the new combatant across the back of his head with her tray. One of the Steinbruners grabbed the front of his shirt and threw him against the wall, so that his head bounced. Deirdre stared at him, watching his eyes flutter before he sagged.

“Deirdre,” Tom yelled, “goddamn it. Get over here!”

She pushed her way through the last couple of men, then braced her back to the wall beside Sylvia. “How’s Chico?”

“They knocked him out, those bastards.” Her voice sounded choked.

Deirdre glanced at her tear-stained cheeks. “We’ll take care of him.” Another crash echoed from across the room and Deirdre glanced back at the bar.

Harry crouched in front of the sink, wielding the pool cue like a baseball bat. At the other end of the bar, Leon swung his push-broom at shoulder level, jabbing at faces.

Deirdre heard a thump on her other side and watched the Steinbruner brothers toss fighters out of their way. They seemed remarkably cheerful about it.

Tom had grabbed one of the pool cues off the floor and was using it like a lance to drive people away from Chico. “Go out to the garden,” he yelled. “Call Nando. Now!” He grabbed hold of her shoulder, pushing her outside.

Deirdre stumbled to a table at the side, fumbling for her cell phone, then punched in 911. A woman’s voice answered. “Konigsburg police. You got an emergency?”

“I’m at the Faro,” Deirdre panted. “There’s a fight. A bad fight. Chico Burnside’s been hurt. Send us some help. Please. Hurry.”

“Wait,” the woman barked. Deirdre heard voices in the background, and then she was back again. “I need your name. Tell me what’s going on right now.”

Deirdre managed not to roll her eyes. “My name is Deirdre Brandenburg, and what’s going on right now is a fight, which means a bunch of men are punching each other and trying to smash up the bar. Now I’m going back inside. They need me.” She snapped the phone closed and pushed it into her pocket, then jerked the door open.

At least the situation didn’t look any worse than it had before. Several people had already left by the front door, and the ones who remained were concentrated around the pool table and the bar. Sylvia knelt beside Chico, holding his head in her lap. Tom had carved out an empty space in front of them, and was using his cue to help the Steinbruners, who still seemed to be enjoying themselves way too much as they threw a couple of men to the floor. Across the room, Harry and Leon pushed men back from the bar, but a lot of bottles had been smashed. The smell of spilled alcohol bit at her nostrils.

Suddenly, she felt Tom’s hand on her shoulder. “Down!” he yelled, a moment before glass shattered to her left. Something heavy struck her back. Deirdre squinted over her left shoulder. The plate glass window at the front of the bar lay in shards, glass covering the tables and the floor.

The front door slammed open, and Nando Avrogado pushed his way inside. “Police,” he shouted. “Everybody freeze where you are!”

For a moment, everyone seemed to pause, and then men were stampeding for the beer garden exit, pushing Deirdre aside in the rush. Sylvia threw herself across Chico’s body to protect him, and Tom reached into the running crowd to pull one of the men out, shoving him back against the wall. “Not you, asshole.”

The man aimed a desperate punch at Tom’s jaw that landed on his shoulder. Tom grunted in pain and then threw the man across the pool table, shoving the handle of the cue under his chin. “Don’t you fucking move. I’d love to take your head off.”

Nando yelled at someone outside, probably another cop, and then stepped back into the room, pausing to take in the general carnage.

Harry and Leon slumped against the bar. The mirror behind them looked cracked and the floor in front was littered with broken bottles. Two of the Steinbruner brothers had dropped into chairs at the side, mopping their foreheads with the tails of their T-shirts. Sylvia was huddled against the wall, still cradling Chico’s head.

And Tom held the last man flat on the pool table, the cue jammed so tight beneath his chin he was gurgling. Deirdre had a feeling Tom was only holding himself back from more serious assault by a thread.

Nando stepped up beside him, laying his hand on his arm. “Okay, Ames, I’ll take it from here.”

Tom blinked at him for a moment, then stepped back, reluctantly moving the cue away from the man’s chin. “This is the SOB who started it. He hit Chico with a beer bucket.”

Nando nodded, staring down at the man on the pool table. “Anybody call for an aid car?”

“I did,” Sylvia whispered.

“Good. Should be here in a couple of minutes, then. How about the rest of you? Anybody else hurt?”

Tom glanced around the room, his gaze coming to rest on Deirdre. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Looks like we’re all right, then.”

Another policeman entered from the beer garden. “I couldn’t keep up with them, but Ham had a couple in his sights. He may be able to bring another one down.”

“Thanks, Curtis.” Nando jerked his head at Tom’s captive, now hunched over the pool table. “Put the cuffs on this one and take him down to the station. I’ll be there as soon as I get this sorted out.”

As the second cop was leaving with his prisoner, the aid car arrived, which meant several minutes spent helping the groggy Chico into the back. Sylvia was adamant about going with him, and no one felt like arguing with her, given that Chico never let go of her hand. Nando had a quick conversation with the Steinbruners while Chico was being taken care of, then sent them on their way.

Finally, Nando pulled up a chair and sat, resting one booted foot on the end of the pool table. “Okay, boys and girls, let’s hear it. What happened here? Who were these guys?”

Tom shook his head. “Damned if I know. I never saw any of them before.” He turned to Harry. “You recognize any of them?”

“No, sir. They weren’t from around here. Not unless they all got here within the last two weeks or so.”

“How many were there?” Nando asked.

“About twenty,” Leon said. “Maybe more.”

Tom shook his head. “Nine or ten. But after they took Chico down that was enough.”

Nando had pulled out a small notebook and pen. “What started the fight?”

Tom’s jaw tightened. “They hit Chico, that’s what started it.”

“Were they arguing?”

Tom frowned. “I didn’t see it.”

“No.” Deirdre sighed. “They came through the door from the garden and one of them punched him as soon as they walked in. Then a man at one of my tables hit him on the back of his head with a beer bucket.”

Nando winced, writing a quick note. “Sounds like they wanted to take him down.”

“Sounds like.” A muscle danced in Tom’s jaw.

“So then what?”

“So then they started busting up the place.”

“They didn’t try to take out anyone else?”

Tom shook his head. “Nope.”

“Yes they did.” Deirdre swallowed as Nando turned to look at her. Her palms felt wet, her shoulders were trembling.
Reaction
. Only she couldn’t afford that right now. “Another one of the men who were at my table tried to hit Tom with a bottle when his back was turned.”

“What happened?”

She swallowed again. Why was her throat so tight all of a sudden? “I hit him with my tray and with a beer bottle. Then the Steinbruner brothers finished him off. He must have gotten away, though. I didn’t see him after that.”

Tom was staring at her blankly. “You did what? Jesus, Deirdre!”

“It worked,” she said flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

Tom looked like he was going to disagree, but Nando cut him off. “So they took out Chico, and they tried to take you out too. And then they busted up the joint. Sounds about right.”

Tom squinted at him. “Right for what?”

“Right for somebody who wanted to put you out of business. What do you think—did they make it?”

Deirdre stared around the room for the first time since Chico and the others had left. The bar was a small disaster, at least half of the liquor destroyed, the mirror cracked, the cooler door hanging from its hinges. In the room itself, most of the tables were standing but a few tottered dangerously, legs broken. More chairs lay in pieces. And the glass from the front window covered a third of the room.

Nando raised an eyebrow. “You check the beer garden yet?”

Tom pushed himself to his feet slowly, as if his body hurt. He opened the door and gazed out the back. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Looks like they took out some of the tables and chairs before they came in the door. How about the outside bar?”

“Broken up. Maybe totaled. I’ll check it tomorrow, in daylight.”

He slumped back into a chair near the door. Deirdre felt a pain in her chest every time she looked at him. Wasn’t this the point at which Mickey and Judy were supposed to hop up and start a dance number? Something about being down but now out? Right now they both looked about as out as she could ever remember looking.

“You got any insurance,
vato?
” Nando’s voice was surprisingly gentle.

Tom nodded. “Some. Not enough, probably. And it’ll take time to get everything put back together.”

“Well, if we figure out who’s behind this, you can always sue ’em.” Nando leveled his Stetson on his head again. “Which is what I’m going to do right now—figure it out, that is. I’ll let you know if that asshole you caught gives me any names.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll go to the hospital and check on Chico after we board up the window.”

“I’ll go with you.” Deirdre stood up and then put a hand on the pool table. Her knees suddenly felt shaky.

Tom turned back toward her, his eyes bleak. “You should go home and get some rest.”

She bit her lip. “I’ll go with you. Wherever.” It was as close as she could get to a declaration, under the circumstances.

Tom and Harry located some sheets of plywood in the back of Deirdre’s shop and nailed them across the window in front. It wasn’t completely covered, but it was probably enough to discourage anyone from coming in. “Not that there’s much left worth stealing,” Tom muttered.

While they were still hammering, Clem arrived, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in spikes. “What the hell?” She turned to Deirdre. “Helen Kretschmer called me from the police station. What happened? Who did this?”

Deirdre pushed a broom through the shards of glass, concentrating on neat piles. “We were attacked. We don’t know yet who did it. They’ve got a man in custody, maybe two. Nando said he’d try to get some answers.”

“Holy shit. Did they touch my kitchen?” Clem trotted across the room, detouring around broken bottles.

Deirdre followed her. “They didn’t seem interested in it, but I couldn’t see that side of the room.”

Clem flung the kitchen door open, then sighed in relief. “It’s okay. I don’t think anyone was in here except Leon.”

Deirdre stared around the kitchen, then leaned her head against the doorjamb. Suddenly, she felt like crying. “Good. I’m glad they missed something.” She closed her eyes, fighting back the clenching in her throat.

Clem rested a hand on her arm. “Is Chico really hurt? How bad is he?”

“We don’t know yet. I’m going over to the hospital with Tom as soon as they finish boarding up the window. Sylvia’s over there with him.”

“I’ll come too.” Clem peered into the mirror over the sink, brushing through her hair with her fingers. “Damn. I look punk.” She turned back again to Deirdre. “Okay, toots, who do you think did this?”

Deirdre shook her head, her throat so tight she was afraid she might choke. “I don’t know. I told you.”

“But your best guess would be…?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know.” But the more she thought about it, the more she thought she did. She just wasn’t ready to face the answer yet.

Chapter Twenty

Tom stared down at the beer in his hand. The beer he hadn’t touched in fifteen minutes. He should drink the goddamn beer. He should go home, get some sleep, leave all of this until tomorrow. He should definitely get Deirdre to stop sweeping.

He wasn’t sure why she was doing it. It seemed to make her feel better. He could hear the slight scratching of the broom across the floor, along with the occasional tinkle of glass as she pushed the debris into heaps.

He stared down at his beer again, willing himself to take a sip.

Chico had a concussion. Sylvia was going to stay at the hospital until they threw her out, which he figured would be any minute now given her frequent bouts of hysterics. Harry and Leon had already left when he and Deirdre got back. Clem said she’d be back for lunch, even though they probably wouldn’t be able to open.

And Deirdre was sweeping.

He studied her pale face, her hands clenched tight around the broom handle. Probably not healthy. He should be worried about her, but somehow he didn’t have the energy to worry about anything else on top of the Faro right now.

He’d probably managed to fulfill all her family’s worst expectations about his not being worthy of her, to say nothing of his tendency to put her at risk.

He sighed. “Deirdre?”

She glanced at him, reaching down to toss a larger piece of broken bottle onto the pile. “What?”

“Leave it. I’ll start the clean-up tomorrow.”

“I’m almost…”

“Leave it!” Tom snapped, then winced. He didn’t want to start taking out his frustrations on people who were trying to help, particularly not on Deirdre who had apparently saved his worthless hide from a concussion like Chico’s, which would probably have led to the complete destruction of the Faro.