The Granite Moth (29 page)

The mother stopped crying, and I could almost see the resignation in her face. She thought she'd done right in keeping her son from a drug cartel. She thought a life under Salvatore Magrelli's thumb was a fate worse than death. Maybe she was right, though I doubted a jury would agree. I wanted to know what she had said to him before he left for The Skyview. Did she say she loved him after poisoning his dinner, knowing it would react if he had even a sip of alcohol? The righteousness was rolling off of her, and as angry as I'd like to be, part of me felt it was justified, too. What would Ernesto have become? One life sacrificed to save many? A devil's bargain maybe, but it seemed like the devil was the only one making deals these days.

Agent Thornfield arrived first, and Cronos Holt didn't have any difficulty recognizing him. The words “son of a bitch” might have come out of his mouth, but John didn't seem to notice. He whistled in appreciation as I handed over the Winchester.

“Unadulterated walnut,” I said through clenched teeth.

“An antique, sure enough,” he replied. Dolly got cups of water for Mr. and Mrs. Belasco, who sat quietly, waiting for the NYPD to arrive. They didn't seem like flight risks anymore and confessed to sending the invitation to themselves. Representatives from the Zeus Society had been at Ernesto's burial not to protest but to present their twisted brand of comfort, the “now he can't sin anymore” tagline that the Belascos admitted they hated. It had given them an idea, and they knew that if anyone would help them get out of the country, it would be this group.

We'd moved back into the main storage space, and I leaned against a rack of porn, hoping that the EMTs would get there soon. A tougher broad might have popped her own partially dislocated elbow back in place, but even the thought of that made black spots swim in my line of sight. A lone pigeon flapped against a high window, desperate to get out. I could sympathize.

“Still got that slingshot?” I said to Cronos. He would probably be charged with obstructing justice—something minor, but it would stir up a little bad publicity at least, maybe cut into his speaking fees. I hoped that Big Mamma would press charges for the death threats, too, though I wouldn't meddle with her business. Despite his vulnerabilities, Cronos was acting surprisingly calm. The certainty of the rich never ceased to amaze me. He believed that he would make bail in an hour tops. I could hear his spin already, helping people in their greatest time of need. The weapon of David and Goliath fame—or Nestor and whoever—was still in his back pocket.
He handed it to me and I passed it along to Dolly, who looked at me quizzically.

“Hit a bird, get a priiize!” the leader said gleefully. He held out a marble, but Dolly passed. Whether he disapproved of the ammo or touching the man's fingers, I couldn't tell. Instead my friend moved around a few bits of debris until he found a healthy piece of concrete. He cradled it in the pocket, then pulled back the elastic much farther than I had managed. When he let it fly at the window as I knew he would, the glass shattered, raining down on the concrete floor. The pigeon didn't fly away immediately, scared by the noise and blast of cold. Eventually he made a break for it, and within seconds had disappeared from view.

“You'll pay for that,” Cronos said, no longer amused.

“We'll see. I think you'll be paying for awhile.”

I hoped Dolly was right. So did Detective Cowder, who arrived shortly after to handcuff him and the Belascos. I wasn't in so much pain that I didn't notice Ellis's deliberate avoidance of me. He kicked at the dirty glass pieces on the ground and looked everywhere but in my direction. Detective Cowder asked all the questions, and I filled her in on what I knew. The Belascos had known that their son was being recruited by Magrelli; they'd solved the problem themselves. They probably would have killed Eva, too, if they could have gotten their hands on her. Somehow Magrelli had found out, and they really were fleeing because they were afraid.

I was glad when the paramedics arrived, so that I could be excused. Solving this case didn't feel much better than solving the float explosion, and I wondered if I should enroll in night school for nutritional sciences. A young paramedic extended my arm. “Sedatives or pain killers?” he asked.

“Both?”

He rolled his eyes at this comment and dug two pills out of his bag. After I assured him that I wouldn't operate any heavy
machinery, he gave me a small cup of water, too. Five minutes didn't seem long enough for either medication to kick in, but the man was ready to wrap up this non-life-threatening scene and popped my arm back in place with enviable precision and not a little sangfroid. I staggered out of the ambulance seconds before he slammed the doors shut behind me.

Ellis had my bag slung over his shoulder, as if we were at the movies and I'd merely stepped into the ladies' room. “You've been playing the wrong game all along,” he said.

“What's that?”

“Driver's licenses for three different states, currencies for multiple countries, two cell phones, tape recorder, gum, a brochure for trapeze school, something called ‘No Slip Tape,' bolt cutters, a lock picking kit, and an arm brace. I'm telling you, Kathleen, you would clean up at Let's Make A Deal.”

He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't hostile. He held out the brace and helped me slip it over my head, pulling me close to his chest in the process. I didn't pull away, and he didn't make me. Was it a truce? It might have been the meds starting to work, but the possibility made my face warm. It was more concern than embarrassment that made me ask about his brother.

“Lars gets bored easily,” Ellis said.

“A family trait?”

“I'm not in law enforcement for the health insurance, if that's what you mean.”

The thought of company-provided health insurance made my heart flutter, but I suppose not everyone's as easily swayed. Plus, the NYPD made sure you used your coverage, detracting from the appeal.

“He didn't kill Ernesto. I'm sorry I accused him.”

“Lars is nothing if not opportunistic.”

I didn't know what to say to someone whose brother had thrown away his life of luxury for crime sprees. If Ellis was
the Bruce Wayne of the family, who was Lars? I didn't want to find out, but I had a sinking feeling that I would. In a way, it was why I had wanted my two cases to be linked. Cartoon villains are easy to spot. These others with good intentions? Mothers protecting their sons? Young men wanting to succeed? They could be any of us with the right push, the wrong voice whispered in our ears. And I had a lot of voices. Little scared me as much.

The police cruiser with Cronos Holt inside flashed its lights and pulled away. I didn't want to, but I forced myself to take a step away from Ellis. He was watching the leader squint at us through the window.

“All their weapons land, no matter who flings them.”

“Please don't start,” I said, still chagrined that I couldn't remember more than the “wretched men” lines from
The Iliad
. What had I been doing in English class besides studying?

Dolly was wearing John Thornfield's coat when he exited the warehouse. Bundled up, he looked even more vulnerable than usual, but I knew better. He waved at me with one of the too-long sleeves, and I waved back.

“Friend of yours?” Ellis asked.

“Easy bet.”

Meeza was gripping my hand in the dark as we waited for the lights to come back on.

“I'm nervous,” she said. “Should I be nervous?”

I smiled at her even though I knew she couldn't see me. There was a tea candle on our table, but it barely illuminated the penis-shaped confetti that Big Mamma thought set the right tone for fundraising. “Of course we're still mourning,” she'd said when I held up a shiny blue one for her inspection. “But you don't
get far by looking over your shoulder. You feel me?” I'd “yes ma'am”ed her, and she'd walked me to the front of the crowded room. Our front-row table was reserved and labeled “VIP.” That was definitely a first. I was feeling fortunate that night, though. Meeza had agreed to be my date even if she hadn't agreed to leave the country or stop seeing V.P. My concerns were touching, she had decided. It was a start. And that nagging concern that her boyfriend had asked her to keep tabs on me? I shoved it to the back of my mind.

The disco ball was illuminated first, but because of our location, we could see Dolly walk out from the wings. He was wearing a gray, silk gown with pink feathers skimming the ground. On anyone else, the dress would have looked like a maid's duster, but Dolly looked glamorous. He started singing “Rocket Man” before the other lights were turned up, and a collective sigh eased through the crowd. His scheme had been for the evening to be his farewell performance, but Big Mamma and I persuaded him that a welcome-back would be more appropriate. I'd like to think that I had some influence over his decision, but we all knew he never wanted to leave in the first place. Nobody wants to be run out of town.

The lights turned up a notch, and I could now admire the blonde bob that Vondya had made special for the evening, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to get the bangs right. They grazed the star's eyebrows in a nearly perfect horizontal line. Paired with black silk gloves, it was if the accident had never happened. At least not for an hour or two.

When joined on stage by Cassandra and Juniper, the tempo changed, and soon Kylie Minogue was blasting over the speakers. Everyone was on their feet, Meeza shaking more provocatively than I would have believed possible. I excused myself and headed toward the bar to avoid the crowd. I was being extra careful with my banged-up arm,
heeding the warnings this time. I had a better view from the back anyway.

Dolly had descended into the crowd and was swinging Meeza around. The dancers near her did little to hide their jealousy, but the overall vibe was hopeful. Big Mamma would have been proud of these patrons, not a single one staring over their shoulders. We all had a good chance of making it out of there alive. If that wasn't cause to celebrate, what was? I felt more like myself than I had in years since there was no point in hiding anymore. I may have been wearing Dolly's Kiki wig because he insisted it was festive, and my I.D. may have said Kate Manning or Katya Lincoln or Kathy Seasons—take your pick—but I was humming along to “Can't Get You Out of My Head.” The view in front of me wasn't all sunshine and sequins, but at least I was facing the right direction.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
t's
hard to tell whether luck is on Kat's side, but she's definitely on mine. I was fortunate to work with agent Penn Whaling and wish her the best in her new career. The entire Ann Rittenberg team is superb, including Ann herself and Camille Goldin. Over at Pegasus, superstar editor Maia Larson continues to impress me with her insight and patience. I'm also grateful to Claiborne Hancock and Iris Blasi. Charles Brock designed the gorgeous cover, and I hope Nashville suits him. Elizabeth Cramer introduced me to the granite moth, more evidence that teachers can learn from their students. Without the support of my friends and family, I can't imagine writing a single chapter. Special thanks to Ricardo Maldonado, Matthew Pennock, Kristen Linton, Katie Meadows, Tayt Harlin, Toral Doshi, and Chris Shiflett though there are many others whose encouragement is invaluable. Adam Province makes this strange journey worthwhile. And of course I thank my parents, Kevin and Paula Wright, to whom this book is dedicated.

THE GRANITE MOTH

Pegasus Crime is an Imprint of

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Copyright © 2015 Erica Wright

First Pegasus Books edition November 2015

Interior design by Maria Fernandez

All
The Iliad
excerpts are from the Robert Fagles translation.

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