ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (9 page)

            At eleven-fifteen, Kate was thinking she should have followed Liz’s lead and taken the day off. She was having trouble concentrating on what her client was saying. Fortunately Jeanette mainly needed to vent about her boss today. The man was a psychological replica of her father, and he managed to push her buttons at least once a day. Jeanette was job-hunting.

            After seeing the young woman out at the end of her session, Kate checked phone messages. Two cancellations. She took that as a sign that she was not supposed to be working today. Grabbing the files of the other two people scheduled, she skimmed through the notes of their last sessions to see where they’d left off.

            Neither seemed to be in a bad place. Unless something crucial had come up during the week, they shouldn’t mind postponing their sessions.

            She made the phone calls, then headed back to the hospital.

            When she arrived, Mac was awake, but just barely. Rose was filling him in on what had happened. His eyes drifted closed and he tried to lick dry lips. Kate poured water from the plastic pitcher on his bedside table into its matching cup, then held the straw so he could sip from it. He swallowed twice, then let go. “Thanks, sweet pea,” he croaked out, as his eyes fluttered closed again.

            Kate gestured for Rose to come out into the hall with her. “Has the doctor been around?”

            “Twice,” Rose said. “He sounded a lot more optimistic the second time, after Mac had opened his eyes. He said it’d be slow going for awhile. Bullet tore through a lot of tissue. We’re supposed to keep Mac as quiet as possible. Not let him get out of bed or move around much.”

            Kate snorted. “That won’t be hard today, but by tomorrow, all bets are off.”

            Rose smiled for the first time in twenty-four hours, although it lacked her normal wattage.

            “Skip was here a little while ago. He wants to get started investigating, but...” Her eyes cut to the door of Mac’s room.

            “I cancelled my afternoon clients, so I can sit with him,” Kate said.

            Rose still looked conflicted. She glanced at her watch. “I guess I’ll catch up with Liz and see what she’s come up with.”

            “I’ll call if there are any developments,” Kate reassured her, then hesitated. Rose wasn’t much for demonstrations of affection, but Kate suspected she could use a hug. She put her arms around her friend.

            After a moment of startled rigidity, Rose relaxed and hugged her back.

            “Be careful,” Kate said again as she let go.

~~~~~~~~

            Liz stepped back to examine the results of her efforts. “You look like a proper slut to me.”

            Rose frowned at her image in the floor-length mirror on the back of Liz’s bedroom door. She was wearing dark brown silk short-shorts, dark stockings and black pumps with very high heels. The strapless black push-up bra was covered, just barely, by a low-cut peach tube top.

            She felt like her boobs would pop out if she breathed hard.

            A white lace jacket, which left plenty of skin showing through, completed the ensemble. Fake-gold chains hung around her neck.

            Liz pointed to one of the clip-on earrings dangling from Rose’s earlobes. “Hope nobody looks at those too closely. They’re plastic. Came from a dress-up set for kids.”

            Rose nodded, knowing that was the best Liz could do. Her ears weren’t pierced. She took off the two pieces of jewelry she normally wore, besides her watch. She squeezed the rings inside her fist for a moment, then dropped them into Liz’s palm. “Hang onto those for me.”

            Liz cleared her throat. “You bet,” she whispered. “Wish I could do more.”

            “This was a big help. Thanks.”

            Rose kicked off the shoes and pulled sweats on over the outfit. She sat down on the side of Liz’s bed to put her sneakers back on. “Gonna carry the shoes for now. Hopefully I won’t break my neck when I have to walk in them.”

            Liz put a hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Be careful.”

            Rose contemplated those two words as she drove to the agency office to meet Skip and Dolph. She’d said them often enough herself–to her employees, to Kate, and even to Skip at times. But she couldn’t remember the last time someone had said them to her. Now
everybody
was.

            She and Mac never said them to each other. They both knew the other would be insulted. When one or both of them were going into potential danger, that was the only time they said “I love you” to each other. By mutual agreement, they wanted those to be the last words exchanged between them, should the worst ever happen.

            Had she said them to Mac before she’d left the hospital? She couldn’t remember. Probably not since Kate was there.

            She blinked several times, refusing to let the grittiness in her eyes turn into tears. “I love you, Mac Reilly,” she said out loud.

            Then she took a deep breath and consciously loosened her death grip on the steering wheel. They had a job to do. They needed to clear Jamieson.

            And she was gonna find the bastard who shot her husband.

~~~~~~~~

            At a little after three, Skip stuck his head inside the door of the café. It was empty. Good. Rose wanted to see the place for herself but they didn’t want Frederico’s people associating her with them.

            He made a come-on gesture behind him. Rose, in her sweats and a baseball cap, followed him through the door. Dolph brought up the rear.

            Skip felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. Was he coming down with something? Hopefully not. Maybe it was just a reaction to the malodorous bouquet of the less-than-clean restaurant.

            The wizened little owner came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands nervously on his apron. He looked relieved when he saw them. “
Buenos dias, señores, ey señora.
” He made a small bow in Rose’s direction. “De
hombre
who got shot yesterday, he okay?”

            “He’s alive,” Skip said. “Did you see the shooter?”

            “Oh, no,
señor
. I in back, cook food.” The little man shook his head, but Skip could see the lie in his shifting eyes.

            “Big guy, in the suit, slipped through that door just before we left.” Dolph tilted his head toward the doorway with the dingy curtain. “He go outside?”

            “No see him,
señor
.”

            Skip seriously doubted that. “He had to walk right past you.”

            The man was silent, rubbing his palms on his apron.

            Rose headed toward the curtained doorway. The little man started to step into her path.

            “I wouldn’t try to stop her,” Dolph said in a mild voice.

            He and Skip followed her into the kitchen. A door on the side wall led to the outside. The horizontal bar across the middle allowed it to be pushed open quickly from the inside while it remained locked from the outside. No doubt a requirement by the city fire marshal, although the thick layer of grime and grease said the place hadn’t been inspected any time recently.

            Skip wondered if the owner was trying to kill Frederico with food poisoning. Or maybe he was hoping the kitchen would catch fire, then he’d take off through the side door and watch his nemesis burn.

            They went through the door into an alley. It stank of garbage. Dolph held his nose. Rose kicked a small box out of her way. A rat ran out and scurried away.

            They picked their way through the trash to the alley entrance. “My truck was there.” Skip pointed to a scraggly tree next to the curb. “Just in front of that tree.”

            Rose nodded. “This was probably where the shooter was. Clear line from here. No way he missed you all by accident, unless he’s the world’s worst shot.”

            Dolph pointed down the block to a narrow opening between two buildings. “Guy who shouted might’ve been there.”

            They went back through the front door of the café. The owner was sweeping the floor. “Someone called out to us yesterday,” Skip said. “Told us to look out. Who was it?”

            The old man hesitated, no doubt weighing whether it was safe to answer. “Frederico send man after you. Hiz
número tres
. He go out, then I hear yelling.”

            Skip nodded. “
Gracias, señor.
” Skip extracted a twenty from his wallet and tried to hand it to the man.

            “
¡Vaya, señor!
I no want you money.
Su amigo
, I pray for him.”

            Skip pocketed the bill, then extended his hand. “
¡Muchas gracias!
”

            The old man went still for a moment, then he wiped his palm again on his grimy apron and shook Skip’s hand.

~~~~~~~~

            Standing next to Rose’s car a block away, Skip said, “So he sends his number three guy out to watch us. Maybe just to make sure we truly leave. And the guy shouts a warning. Says to me the shooter was not acting on Frederico’s orders.”

            Dolph and Rose both nodded. She beeped her car unlocked.

            It took a moment for Skip to figure out how to collapse his big frame into the back seat of the small sedan. “Feel like a damn pretzel,” he muttered as they pulled away from the curb, Dolph at the wheel.

            Several blocks from Jimmy Matthews’ apartment building, Dolph pulled over to the curb and Rose got out. She had shed the sweats, revealing the results of Liz’s efforts. Skip let out a low teasing wolf-whistle.

            “Shut up, partner,” Rose muttered. She strolled away, shivering and wobbling on the unfamiliar high heels.

            The temptation to call her back and get them all the hell out of here flitted through Skip’s mind. He squelched the thought.

            “Hope she doesn’t have to run in those,” Dolph said as they watched her turn the corner.

            “She’ll kick ’em off and use ’em as weapons if things go south,” Skip said with more confidence than he felt. The queasy feeling in his stomach was back, and he couldn’t blame it on
Señor
Santiago’s smelly café this time.

            Dolph pulled out and slowly followed, hanging back a half block. When Rose joined a group of four scantily-clad women on a corner, he moved over to the curb again. She chatted with them for a few minutes, then strolled away when two men approached the group. Further down the next block, she stopped to talk to two other young women. Their body language seemed a bit hostile. Rose moved on.

            Dolph waited for a break in traffic and then made a U-turn. Going around the block, and then up two blocks, he turned again and pulled over to the curb. They were now several hundred feet beyond where Rose was talking to another group of three women, all of whom looked a little worse for wear.

            Rose suddenly kicked off a shoe, then stooped down and pretended to shake a pebble out of it. That was the signal to pick her up.

            Dolph glanced over his shoulder and eased the car out into the street after a cab rumbled by. Skip crouched further down in the backseat, out of sight. He stuck his head up just enough to peek out the tinted side window.

            Dolph stopped adjacent to the group of women across the street and lowered his window. “Hey,
señorita
.” He slurred his words as he leered at Rose. “Wanna go for a ride?”

            Rose stepped to the curb and called over to him. “It’s like a cab stand, mister. Ya take the next in line.”

            “First I heard a that rule. I likes my women on the tan side, ya know what I mean.” Dolph let out a lusty chuckle.

            Rose looked over her shoulder at the other women, two black and one white. They exchanged glances just as a delivery truck stopped behind Dolph and blew his horn. The white woman–who looked to be pushing fifty but was probably a decade younger–shrugged plump shoulders clad in a sheer black blouse.

            Rose flashed the women a grin, then checked the traffic and wobbled across the road. Dolph raised his window. “How do they stand the cold in those outfits?”

            Rose slid into the passenger seat and slammed her door. Her teeth were chattering.

            Ignoring the truck driver who was now waving his hand out his window, middle finger erect, Dolph started moving the car sedately down the street. He was keeping an eye out for any of Frederico’s men.

            When they were several blocks away, Skip sat up.

            “Frederico’s taken over Jimmy’s girls,” Rose said, “and they’re not happy about it. The unanimous message was that I should get myself right back to the Greyhound station and get outta town.”

            “Were you able to find out anything about the guy in the suit?” Skip asked.

            “Not much, but one of the ladies said the first thing Frederico did, after informing them that he was their new pimp, was to pass them around to his men. But the, quote, ‘big guy with the stick up his ass’ didn’t participate. My sense is the take-over of the ladies was rather matter-of-fact, no gloating or posturing, just Freddie boy announcing they were his now.”

            The three of them rode in silence for several minutes, pondering what Rose had found out.

            Finally Dolph said, “Got more questions than answers out of that deal.”

            “Yup,” Skip said.

            Rose just nodded as she leaned down to strap her ankle holster back on under her sweatpants.

~~~~~~~~

            First thing Saturday morning, Kate called Mac’s room at the hospital to check on him. Rose picked up and reported that the patient was recovering, slowly but surely.

            As Kate hung up, she realized, with a pang of guilt, that she’d forgotten all about Pete since Mac had been shot. She wondered how he was doing. Skip agreed to watch the kids, so after breakfast she headed for the jail.