Glass Houses (17 page)

“It’s nothing,” Vanni said. “Where to first, partner? Do we pick up what
ever car you’re going to drive,
or go to Mama’
s for some things for Olivia?”

“Car. Then Mama’s.” Aiden knew Vanni would soon find a way to tell him something he wasn’t going to like.

“Stop trying to keep things from me,” Olivia said, her
voice rising. “I’m a very calm, sensible person. Ask anyone who knows me. I won’t panic, no matter what you say.”

“It’s nothing, really—”

“Yes it is! Now tell me.”

Aiden looked straight ahead. Vanni was heading for the warehouse Aiden rented for restoring and storing cars.

“Okay, but don’t flip out on me. They said they’re sure you must be with Aiden by now. You just didn’t get back to his place yet. They’ve had it staked out all night.”

“Great,” Aiden said. “Just frigging great.”

Olivia said, “Oh, dear.” She found some comfort in Boswell’s heavy presence.

“Anyway, Laurel and Hardy think they’ve got everything worked out.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Olivia said. “They remind me of Laurel and Hardy, too.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said. “The most obvious thing here is that friend Ryan’s got something going on the side with those two goons. Fats—Fats Lemon is Ryan Hill’s partner—he’s in on it. Has to be. So why can’t I get to the chief and make him see what a fool he’s going to look when all of this goes down?”

“Exactly,” Olivia said.

“I don’t know what to say anymore.” Vanni kept on driving, but much more slowly. “We could try getting someone to listen, but what if the groundwork is as good as it looks to me?” He brought a fist down on the steering wheel. “I’ll go in and talk to the chief again, I guess.”

“No,” Olivia said. She wasn’t given to premonitions, but one had just smacked her so hard that she felt disoriented. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not saying, Vanni.”

“I’m going to do whatever you tell me to do,” Vanni said to Aiden. “You know how much you mean to me, man, and to my family. Those guys back there intend to track you two down. They were talking in what they think is some sort of code, but I didn’t need any road map. There’s a whole, goddamn network involved in this. The money has to be huge. And some
of the players are definitely way out of any league we’ve ever played in.

“Aiden, I don’t think Laurel and Hardy have anything to lose. Or Ryan and Fats. They’ve got to stop you or they’re finished. The one thing they probably haven’t anticipated is that you’ll try to flee across the country. They expect you to go by air—and they sure don’t sound worried about
Kennedy or LaGuardia or Newark.”

“Because they’re all staked out,
”
Aiden said quietly. “We’re being looked for at every airport for miles around. Every airport with flights to South America or other parts where they probably couldn’t get at us.”

“Yeah.” Vanni had reached an area of narrow gray streets with windowless buildings lining the pavements. Children tore down the middle of the street, yelling and shoving at each other. “Makes you envy schoolteachers, huh? Hey, good thing nobody knows about your change of plan. Why don’t you wait at the warehouse while
I
go pick up what you need?”

Aiden didn’t like the way the future was shaping up. He was still alone at thirty-six because that way he knew exactly who he was responsible for and, at the end of the day, who would have to share his bad times; no one. “I’m thinking we should just leave and pick up anything we need along the way.” It was the “we” that ruffled him.

“Good call,” Vanni said lightly. “How much cash do you have on you?”

“Enough to get by for a while.”

Vanni nodded. “I’ll give you what I’ve got, too. Then I’ll wire more if necessary.”

“
Because we shouldn’t use credit cards, right?
”
Olivia said in a small, tight voice. “But we could change some of my pounds.”

Vanni glanced at her in the mirror. “Better not in case someone tries to check you out. We’ll keep in touch. We’ll have to be careful, but it can be done. You’ll have your cell phone, Aiden. Leave it on. I’ll do all the calling. That way we don’t risk tipping our hand if you call at the wrong time.”

“Would you just be honest with me, please?” Olivia said. “What else is there? What is it you’re not saying because of me?”

Aiden caught Vanni’s eye and nodded.

“Okay,” Vanni said, “I could be wrong. But back there it sounded as if there’s been a decision. They want you dead— and Aiden.”

Twelve

O
ne of a pair of large, metal double doors swung inward without a sound. Daylight swept over the inside of the warehouse and its contents. From where Olivia viewed the scene, an indoor scrap yard was a perfect description. Cars shrouded by tarpaulins, cars in various stages of repair, pieces of cars, benches loaded with tools, hoists, piles of tires, piles of hubcaps, bins of hardware, swags of unidentifiable objects contained in mesh and festooned from grated catwalks on all sides of the cavernous space.

Aiden threw a bank of switches, and yards of neon bulbs shot startling white light over the scene. Olivia looked upward, past the catwalks she’d already seen, to the grime-caked windows of cubicles lining an even higher balcony. Heavy ropes and rusted pulleys decorated every overhead space and swags of cobwebs made unlikely garlands.

“Welcome,” Aiden said. He moved between the clutter like a man who knew every piece of what he surveyed.

Olivia searched around her before she knew what she was looking for. “Where do you keep your Cadillac?”

“In a garage near the apartment. My Mustang’s there, too. Will you excuse
me while I make a phone call?”

He was all business. Olivia nodded and said, “Of course.”

“Close the door.”

“Certainly.” She wouldn’t have thought rudeness was his style, but perhaps he was preoccupied. Just outside the door, for all the world as if he was trying to make himself invisible, sat Boswell. “You are going to be in trouble,” Olivia whispered. “You were supposed to go with Vanni. How did you get out of the car?”

Solving that mystery didn’t take a brilliant mind. He’d got out of the car because Vanni had let him out—no doubt because Vanni thought the dog might offer extra protection—but Aiden had said there wouldn’t be room to take him.

“The door,” Aiden said, louder than Olivia considered necessary.

“
You heard,
”
she told Boswell. The dog put his long snoot inside, then slithered in and disappeared behind a heap of scrap. Olivia closed the door. Boswell would make her feel better, and he was a lot more even-tempered than his master right now.

“Bo?” she heard Aiden say. “Aiden. No. I’m in New York. I need a favor.”

Olivia sat on a car seat artfully placed at an angle with a rusty engine block in front. Pop cans littered the top of the engine. She didn’t have to go anywhere. With Aiden, or alone. She could hide right here in New York and try waiting out all the fuss. As soon as he got off the phone, she’d tell Aiden that was exactly what she intended to do. There had been too much of doing what someone else wanted her to do in her life.

“I know, I know,” Aiden said, his voice rising. “Are you on a cordless? Yeah, well, I can’t hear over the racket in that seedy bar of yours. Walk out back. I don’t have time to hang around asking you to repeat yourself.”

He had the nerve to call someone up asking for a favor, then be nasty and actually tell them he was in a hurry. Boswell slunk from his hiding place and climbed onto the seat with Olivia. He sat upright beside her, gazing into her face.

“No, it’s not completely finished,” Aiden said into the
phone. “Sure it’s taking longer than you expected. You think I don’t know that? I had a little setback with the paint job. Look I could just have taken off in it, and you wouldn’t have been any the wiser, but I’m an honest guy so I’m calling to ask
…
okay, okay. I’m calling to tell you I’m taking your car across the country because I’ve never been seen in it, or with it. Not a soul is likely to know it’s here. I haven’t had any reason to talk about it. I need anonymous wheels. I’m
…
Let me finish. I’m going to Chris. If someone does find out I’m in your car and they contact you, you don’t know what they’re talking about. They’ll probably expect me to be on my way to Key West. If they suggest that, you still don’t know what they’re talking about. Got that? They’ll get in touch with Chris for sure, but he’ll back me up. He’ll say he never heard from me. Doesn’t expect to see me. And as far as you’re concerned, the Rover isn’t in the main warehouse, and you don’t know where the other warehouse is.”

Amazed, Olivia watched Aiden gesture, and pace, and spin absolute fibs, one after another.

“There isn’t a second warehouse, Bo. That’s just so they stop looking for the car here in New York. I don’t want those jackhammer brains poking around my stuff. They could break something.”

Olivia eyed the debris surrounding her and wondered how he’d know what was or wasn’t broken.

“I don’t have time to explain it all now. You and Roy doing okay? Good. I’ll get down there to see you again soon. In the Rover! But I’ll call and tell you more about what’s going on. Huh?” Aiden stopped pacing and grew quite still. “Who made you an authority on covert maneuvers? No it wouldn’t work just as well for me to stay here and hide out. Out of the goodness of my heart, I set myself up. I’m making it easy for a bum cop to cover his tracks. My own people are looking for me. If they keep looking, they’ll find me in this city no matter where I hide. It’s tougher for a cop to hide than a criminal. I’ve got to buy time to figure things out, and that means I need
distance fro
m here, Bo. Yeah, thanks, I’m gl
ad to have your approval.”

Well, Olivia still thought staying here was a good idea.

“Aren’t I always on my own—when I’m not with Vanni these days? Sure I miss Chris, I’ll always miss Chris, but he didn’t want to be a cop in this city anymore.”

Was he saying he was going on this trip alone? Olivia stung at the thought that he’d dismissed h
er
like that. Let him dismiss her. If he was so intent on going, he’d be better off alone. And it would make it easier for her not to have to tell him she’d changed her mind and intended to go her own way.

“Actually, I’m taking a friend with me. She’s in the same trouble I am. We were going to fly, but we weren’t quick enough to beat the stakeout. I’m going now, Bo. Hi, Roy. Good to hear you. No, I’m not hiding a mad, passionate affair from you guys. Get back to serving beer and oysters. And give my love to Key West. I miss it.”

He hung up and didn’t look in Olivia’s direction. Instead he darted around a trestle table piled high with more black and oily paraphernalia, and with the air of a conjurer revealing the lady he just sawed in two, whipped a filthy tarpaulin off a vehicle.

Olivia knew a beautiful old Rover when she saw one. This looked as if it might be about a 1970. Perhaps ’68. The bonnet was long, and turn lights sat immediately above each front wheel. All the lines were elegantly curved. The silver-gray body gleamed, and she caught the flash of a red-leather interior.

She got up and went closer, and winced. The paint, so perfect at a distance, showed numerous cracks, and in some places tiny chips had fallen off to reveal metallic bronze paint beneath. This must be what Aiden had been telling his friend about.

Aiden hadn’t wanted to look at the Rover 100 for a week or two, until he’d recovered from the disappointment of having the paint blister and then crack for no reason he was aware of. The choice had been taken away. At least he knew the 1960
sedan was in perfect mechanical order and capable of getting him out of a tight spot if the need arose.

“Who are Bo and Roy?”

He hadn’t forgotten Olivia was there, just wished she weren’t. “Friends. Very good friends. Roy is Chris Talon’s brother. Bo’s Roy’s partner. This is Bo’s car. I’m renovating it for him. We’re going to use it to get to Seattle. No one’s going to think to look for me in this.”

“So why did you ask Bo to tell all those lies?”

“I didn’t.” He looked at her. “I made suggestions just in case someone gets smarter than I think they will. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this one, but who knows?”

“Bo’s right. It’s pointless to race off across America, supposedly to hide from bad people, when we can hide from them right here in New York.”

Aiden bundled up the tarp and set it aside. “When did you get to be the expert in logic?”

Words couldn’t be taken back, and he wished he hadn’t spoken them, but she was the woman who had probably become infatuated with a man she’d never met. And she had traveled halfway across the world to meet him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Olivia looked away. She held her mouth firmly shut, but it still trembled. Her hands hung at her sides.

His mother’s hands used to hang just like that when she felt completely helpless—usually when Aiden’s father had disappointed his small family yet again.

“Don’t blame Flynn,” his mother would say. “He should never have married. He doesn’t set out to hurt me, he just isn’t interested in the way I feel. He’s only good at taking care of what matters most to him—Flynn.”

How long had it been since he recalled his mother talking about his father? She’d invariably gone on to tell Aiden that having him had been her idea, not his father’s, and that it was ironic that the child she’d borne to become the companion she’d never found in her husband had inherited so much more from that husband than from her.

“I’m not logical at all,” Olivia said, her voice sounding
unused,
“
I’ve known that most of my life. I’m sorry if I sounded presumptuous, but I think I’m a little angry. I’m not very often. Angry, that is. But I’ve been drawn into something really horrible for no better reason than my having taken some photographs. Honestly, I can’t imagine why anyone would get upset about them. They’re nice, or I presume to think they are. Of course, that’s purely subjective and many, possibly
most,
people wouldn’t think they were—”

“Olivia. For God’s sake, stop putting yourself down every other word. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.” Oh, great, she’d gone into her “I’m useless” mode because he’d scared her into it, and now she had the same just-kicked look all over her. “What I meant—”

“You meant, get to the point. I will. I took shots over two days. For Penny Biggies. They’re of the interior of a beautiful old Notting Hill terrace house. Two terrace houses made into one, actually. Penny was the interior designer for the renovation.”

Aiden slapped the heel of a hand to his brow, and Olivia jumped. He was being perfectly awful, or perhaps he was being himself after putting on a show of good behavior. “What is it?” she asked. “What have I done now?”

“You haven’t
done
anything,” he told her. “I have. Where are the frigging pictures? I can’t believe I’ve been dragging you around since yesterday and I haven’t asked about the
pictures.”

Dragging her around.
“I
should have remembered to show them to you,” she said coolly. “I’d prefer not to take them out here.”

“Why?”

“Well—
”
She searched for a clean and clear place to spread them out. “There isn’t a good spot to set them. I don’t want to get anything on them. Sorry.”

For a moment he just stared at her. Then he said, “Why? No, don’t answer that. Fine. You’re sorry. We’ll get on the road as fast as we can. Tell me more about the photos while we finish up here. See that refrigerator over there? There’s soda
and some beer. Apples. Clear everything out into a cardboard box.”

The refrigerator wasn’t like any she’d ever seen. It reminded her of a pink sarcophagus standing upright. It sounded like a cement mixer filled with gravel. “Penny did a fabulous job.” She emptied plastic cases of new drill bits from a box and began filling it wit
h cans and food—mostly cans. “
If you like really contemporary interiors. I don’t, but I appreciate when they’re well done.”

“Hur
r
y up.”

Olivia paused. Had she actually
said she was going with him? “
The shots for
London Style
are of the most important rooms. The conservatory at the back is fabulous. The whole top floor—third floor—of the two houses is an art gallery. That’s quite a lot of space. The people who own the place collect post-World War II paintings.”

“Paintings?”
Aiden shouted from beneath the raised hood of the Rover. “The paintings you stole?”

Olivia slammed the refrigerator door. “I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Well, there was a pencil once in infant school, but—”

“I was thinking aloud.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, everything that came out of his mouth made the situation worse.
“I
mean I was remembering what Vanni said about you supposedly being an art thief—which I know you aren’t. Maybe the stolen paintings are the ones in your photographs.”

Unable to lift the box, she dragged it toward the car. “If I were going to steal art, it wouldn’t be Abstract Expressionism.”

“Really?” He was one of those people reduced to saying,
“I don’t know much about art, but I know what
I
like,”
when asked.

“
Really,
”
Olivia said, dusting off her hands.
“
Do you like Gorky and Jackson Pollack and that group?”

He shrugged.

She said, “Well I might if I understood them. I don’t, any more than I do nonobjective stuff. I guess my intuitive responses are missing. Abstracts in general are hard for me.”