Part 57 (2/2)
I gritted my teeth and pressed redial.
”Vanessa, please listen a sec. Someone just threatened you.”
”What?”
”That guy you thought was a friend of mine on the patio?”
”Yes...” she said slowly, and I heard Clarence yip in the background.
”He called me when you left. He's a total stranger, Vanessa, but he knew my name, and your occupation, and he made it clear to me that he knew where you lived.”
She gave me that martini chuckle of hers. ”And let me see, you need to come over here to protect me? Jesus, Patrick, we don't need these games. You want to f.u.c.k me, you should have said yes on the patio.”
”Vanessa, no. I want you to go to a hotel for a while. Now. Send my office the bill.”
The chuckle was replaced by a mean laugh. ”Because some weirdo knows where I live?”
”This guy's not your average weirdo.”
I turned on Hereford, walked toward Commonwealth Avenue. The rain had lessened, but the mist had thickened around it, turned the air to warm onion soup.
”Patrick, I'm a defense attorney. Hang on-Clarence, down! Down, now! Sorry,” she said to me. ”Where was I? Oh, yeah. Do you know how many g.a.n.g.b.a.n.gers and petty sociopaths and freaks in general have threatened my life when I've failed to get them Get Out of Jail Free cards? Are you serious?”
”This may be a little different.”
”According to a screw I know at Cedar Junction, Karl Kroft-whom I unsuccessfully defended on murder one and ag rape-drew up a s.h.i.+t list-and I'm being quite literal here-in his cell. And before-”
”Vanessa.”
”And before they wiped it off, Patrick, and put dear Karl under twenty-four-hour watch, my friend the guard said he saw the list. He said my name was number one. Above Above Karl's ex-wife, who he'd already tried to kill once with a saw.” Karl's ex-wife, who he'd already tried to kill once with a saw.”
I wiped thick condensation from my eyes, wished I'd worn a hat. ”Vanessa, just listen a second. I think this-”
”I live in a building with twenty-four-hour security and two doormen, Patrick. You've seen how hard it is to get in. I have six locks on my front door, and even if you could reach my windows on the fourteenth floor, they're impenetrable. I have Mace, Patrick. I have a stun gun. And if that doesn't work, I have a real gun, fully loaded, and always within reach.”
”Listen. That guy they found in the cranberry bog last week with his tongue and hands cut off. He was-”
Her voice rose. ”And if anyone can get past all that that, then, Patrick, f.u.c.k it, they can have me. h.e.l.l, they certainly put in the effort.”
”I understand, but-”
”Ta, sweetie. Good luck with your latest weirdo.”
She hung up, and I clenched the phone in my hand as I crossed into the Commonwealth Avenue mall, a mile-long stretch of green gra.s.s and ebony trees, small benches and tall statues, that cuts up the center of the avenue between the east- and westbound lanes.
Warren Martens had said that Miles Lovell's friend dressed shabby-rich. That he had an air about him that suggested power or at least a power complex.
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