“Oh, this is insane,” Laurie said, flapping her hands into the air and rolling her eyes.
“Hey, calm down,” Jack said. “I didn’t say I was going. I just said it was something I was beginning to think about.”
“Well, stop thinking about it,” Laurie said. “I’ve got enough to worry about.”
Jack smiled at her. “You really are concerned. I’m touched.”
“Oh, sure!” Laurie remarked cynically. “You’re never touched by my pleas not to ride your mountain bike around the city.”
The taxi pulled up in front of Laurie’s apartment building and came to a halt. Laurie started to get some money out. Jack put a hand on her arm. “My treat.”
“All right, I’ll get it next time,” Laurie said. She started to climb out of the cab, then stopped. “If you were to promise to take a cab home, I think we could rustle up something to eat in my apartment.”
“Thanks, but not tonight,” Jack said. “I’ve got to get the bike home. I’d probably fall asleep on a full stomach.”
“Worse things could happen,” Laurie said.
“Let me take a rain check,” Jack said.
Laurie climbed out of the cab and then leaned back in. “Just promise me one thing: you won’t leave for Africa tonight.”
Jack took a playful swipe at her, but she easily evaded his hand.
“Good night, Jack,” Laurie said with a warm smile.
“Good night, Laurie,” Jack said. “I’ll call you later after I talk with Warren.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Laurie said. “With everything that’s happened, I’d forgotten. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Laurie closed the taxi door and watched the cab until it disappeared around the corner on First Avenue. She turned toward her door, musing that Jack was a charming but complicated man.
As she rode up in her elevator, Laurie began to anticipate her shower and the warmth of her terry-cloth robe. She vowed she’d turn in early.
Laurie treated Debra Engler to an acid smile before keying her multiple locks. She slammed her door behind her to give Mrs. Engler an extra message. Moving her mail from one hand to the other, she removed her coat. In the darkness of the closet, she groped for a hanger.
It wasn’t until Laurie entered the living room that she flipped the wall switch that turned on a floor lamp. She got two steps toward the kitchen when she let out a muffled scream and dropped her mail on the floor. There were two men in the living room. One was in her art-deco chair, the other sitting on the couch. The one on the couch was petting Tom, who was asleep on his lap.
The other thing Laurie noticed was a large handgun with an attached silencer on the arm of the art-deco chair.
“Welcome home, Dr. Montgomery,” Franco said. “Thank you for the wine and beer.”
Laurie’s eyes went to the coffee table. There was an empty beer bottle and wineglass.
“Please come over and sit down,” Franco said. He pointed to a side chair they’d put in the middle of the room.
Laurie didn’t move. She was incapable of it. She thought vaguely about running into the kitchen for the phone but immediately dismissed the idea as ridiculous. She even thought about fleeing back to her front door, but with all the locks, she knew it would be a futile gesture.
“Please!” Franco repeated with a false politeness that only augmented Laurie’s terror.
Angelo moved the cat to the side and stood up. He took a step toward Laurie and, without warning, backhanded her viciously across the face. The blow propelled Laurie back against the wall, where her legs gave way. She slumped to her hands and knees. A few drops of bright red blood dropped from her split upper lip, splattering on the hardwood floor.
Angelo grabbed her by the upper arm and roughly hoisted her to her feet. Then he powered her over to the chair and pushed her into a sitting position. Laurie’s terror made her incapable of resisting.
“That’s better,” Franco said.
Angelo leaned over and stuck his face in Laurie’s. “Recognize me?”
Laurie forced herself to look up into the man’s horribly scarred face. He looked like a character in a horror movie. She swallowed; her throat had gone dry. Incapable of speech, all she could do was shake her head.
“No?” Franco questioned. “Doctor, I’m afraid you are going to hurt Angelo’s feelings and, under the circumstances, that’s a dangerous thing to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Laurie squeaked. But no sooner had the words come out, then Laurie associated the name with the fact that the man standing in front of her had been burned. It was Angelo Facciolo, Cerino’s main hit man, now obviously out of jail.
“I’ve been waiting five years,” Angelo snarled. Then he struck Laurie again, half knocking her off the chair. She ended up with her head down. There was more blood. This time it came from her nose and soaked into the carpet.
“Okay, Angelo!” Franco said. “Remember! We’ve got to talk with her.”
Angelo trembled for a moment over Laurie, as if struggling to restrain himself. Abruptly, he went back to the couch and sat down. He picked the cat back up and began roughly petting it. Tom didn’t mind and began to purr.
Laurie managed to right herself. With her hand, she felt both her lip and her nose. Her lip was already beginning to swell. She pinched her nose to halt the bleeding.
“Listen, Doctor Montgomery,” Franco said. “As you might imagine, it was very easy for us to come in here. I say this so you will comprehend how vulnerable you are. You see, we have a problem that you can help us with. We’re here to ask you nicely to leave the Franconi thing alone. Am I making myself clear?”
Laurie nodded. She was afraid not to.
“Good,” Franco said. “Now, we are very reasonable people. We’ll consider this a favor on your part, and we’re willing to do a favor in return. We happen to know who killed Mr. Franconi, and we’re willing to pass that information on to you. You see, Mr. Franconi wasn’t a nice man, so he was killed. End of story. Are you still with me?”
Laurie nodded again. She glanced at Angelo but quickly averted her eyes.
“The killer’s name is Vido Delbario,” Franco continued. “He’s not a nice person, either, although he did do the world a favor in getting rid of Franconi. I’ve even taken the trouble to write the name down.” Franco leaned forward and put a piece of paper on the coffee table. “So, a favor for a favor.”
Franco paused and looked expectantly at Laurie.
“You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” Franco asked after a moment of silence.
Laurie nodded for the third time.
“I mean, we’re not asking much,” Franco said. “To be blunt, Franconi was a bad guy. He killed a bunch of people and deserved to die himself. Now, as far as you are concerned, I hope you will be sensible because in a city this size there’s no way to protect yourself, and Angelo here would like no better than have his way with you. Lucky for you, our boss is not heavy-handed. He’s a negotiator. Do you understand?”
Franco paused again. Laurie felt compelled to respond. With difficulty, she managed to say she understood.
“Wonderful!” Franco said. He slapped his knees and stood up. “When I heard how intelligent and resourceful you are, Doc, I was confident we could see eye to eye.”
Franco slipped his handgun into his shoulder holster and put on his Ferragamo coat. “Come on, Angelo,” he said. “I’m sure the doctor wants to shower and have her dinner. She looks kind’a tired to me.”
Angelo got up, took a step in Laurie’s direction, and then viciously wrenched the cat’s neck. There was a sickening snap, and Tom went limp without a sound. Angelo dumped the dead cat in Laurie’s lap, and followed Franco out the front door.
“Oh, no!” Laurie whimpered as she cradled her pet of six years. She knew its neck had been cruelly broken. She stood up on rubbery legs. Out in the hall, she heard the elevator arrive and then descend.