Part 32 (1/2)
”What?”
”It's sad to say, especially for two people about to embark on a lifetime of marital bliss,” he smiled. ”We have some trust issues. Nothing that can't be overcome. It's just ...”
The doorbell rang.
Jimmy blinked, as the grandfather clock started to chime, ”It's Hector,” he said, ”it's ten o'clock. You mustn't say anything,” he warned. ”If you tell anyone, we'll know. Do you understand?”
”Yes.”
”If you tell Detective Hobbs, I have no doubt that your sister will die, and it won't be an easy death.”
”Is she safe?”
”For now ... Here's the deal. Come tonight and come alone,” he walked over to a mahogany hutch and picked up a thick cream colored envelope. He handed it to her. ”Open it.”
And for the second time, she stared at the engraved invitation to Jimmy's Carnegie Hall recital. Only on this one, there was a single change: James Cyrus Martin, IV
invites you to an evening of romance and music.
Place: Carnegie Hall/Weill Recital Hall
Time: 8:00 p.m.
Date: Sat.u.r.day, May 1
Cello: James Cyrus Martin, IV
Piano: Barrett Conyors
”Any deviation, any altering of the plan and your sister will be nothing but a memory. And as clever as you are, Dr. Conyors, we've been at this a much longer time. I'll know if we're being followed. I'll know if you're wearing a wire. I know all of your reindeer games.” He laughed, ”Perhaps one day as we're chatting to our grandchildren you'll understand how very old we really are.”
The doorbell rang again. Jimmy blinked and went to answer it.
She followed and watched as Hector entered the foyer.
”Hey doc,” he called to her. ”You're still here.”
”She was just leaving,” Jimmy said, as he took the plastic medication box from the aide.
”You feeling okay?” the aide asked her.
”I'm fine,” she mumbled.
”You look kind of green,” he said.
”I must be coming down with something,” she answered as her toe caught on the library threshold and she stumbled.
”You want me to call you a cab?”
”No, I'm fine,” she straightened and looked through the open door at the park's shadowy canopy.
”Goodbye, Dr. Conyors,” Jimmy said in the tone a child uses when responding to a teacher.
She looked back at him, his features arranged in a neutral and pleasant expression. For an instant she had the illusion that he was wearing a mask, and that beneath it she could see a different face, one with eyes that burned. ”Goodbye, Jimmy,” she turned on shaky legs, and grabbing the iron handrail, walked away.
TWENTY-SIX.
Fifty feet from the house, she stopped and stood weak-kneed on the sidewalk. She looked back at the park, as joggers looped around the carefully tended paths. Children played, and nannies, Russian au pairs, and parents chatted on gracefully scrolled ironwork benches.
”Barrett,” a man's voice intruded into her thoughts.
She saw Hobbs coming toward her, dressed in jeans and a flannel s.h.i.+rt.
”I just got your message, I was out with my girls,” he blurted, ”I came as fast as I ...”
She nearly screamed at the sound of a second voice-Jimmy's.
”Oh, Dr. Conyors,” he sang out, from the top of his stoop. ”You forgot your bag. Why, look who's here ... it's Detective Hobbs.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He shook his head. ”Not getting off to a very good start, are we?”
She felt trapped, wanting to tell Hobbs everything. To have him pull out his service revolver right there and take Jimmy in or ... .But even as that fantasy sparked, it was answered by the horrible knowledge that if she did that, Justine would die. It was Jimmy's way. And just because he might be taken into custody, it wouldn't alter the outcome.
Jimmy bounded down the steps with her black bag and the manila envelope filled with newspaper clippings, ”and I believe these are yours, as well,” he said handing them over. He looked up and down the block and then back at Hector who was peeking out of the front door holding a protesting kitten in his arms. ”It's such a beautiful day. I wonder if I might get permission to go for a walk.”
”I could take you,” Hector said, ”we could do some shopping.”