Taking care of business was less messy when he kept his head. There was a lot less cleanup required when the only mark on the body was a neat bullet hole in the forehead. The exit wound in the back of the head was a bit of a chore, but the best things in life were rarely the easiest. At least it was easier than it had been with Conti. He still shuddered at the thought of washing the body. Repugnant it had been. Even for me.
But enough about Angelo Conti. He’d moved on to Arthur Monroe now, the put-upon pedophile that society had failed. He’d chosen Arthur Monroe’s final resting place with ironic care. The liberal bleeding-heart judge who had taken more pity on the offender than his five-year-old victim owned a small dry-cleaning business north of the city. It would serve as both a dumping ground for Monroe and a warning to the judge.
He pulled his van into the narrow access road behind the dry cleaners. The van sported a new sign that was a fine imitation of the one used by Chicago’s Department of Water Management. It, like the electrical contractor sign, made a fine cover for digging a trench. Nobody would give a second thought to seeing a utility vehicle on the street.
And nobody did. It was almost anticlimactic, he thought as he got back in his van to drive away. Nobody challenged him, nobody said, „Hey, fella, what are you doing?“
But then again, it was better that way. His reward would come when the world found out that yet another repellent menace was off the streets.
Back to work now. Back to the fishbowl tonight. It was good to have a hobby.
Monday, February 23,
3:45 P.M.
„Kristen?“
She looked up at the sound of Greg’s voice to find him standing in the doorway to her office, looking miserable.
She might have said he looked as miserable as she felt, but the human face was not capable of that kind of expression. She looked back down, concentrating on the files she was collecting, forcing her voice to be steady. „I’m almost finished, Greg. I’ll be ready to get these cases to you in about an hour.“
He sighed heavily. „You know that’s not why I’m here.“ He came into her office, shutting the door. „I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry it had to be you. I’m sorry it had to be me.“
She looked up and met his kind eyes. „I know. I’m not upset at you, Greg. Really.“
He flopped into the chair across from her desk. „This isn’t fair. It isn’t right. But then this whole past week hasn’t been fair or right. Are you okay, Kristen? Physically?“
Her hands stilled on the file folders. „I’m fine, Greg.“
„That’s what you always say,“ he said bitterly. „We were afraid this would happen, Lois and I. That’s why we wanted you to come stay with one of us.“
„And have intruders with guns in your home, endangering your families? I don’t think so.“
He grimaced as her words hit home, then pounded his fist against his knee. „Dammit, somebody needs to be there for you. You shouldn’t go through this all alone.“
I’m not. The thought echoed in her mind, easing some of the tension from her shoulders. For however long it lasted, Abe Reagan was there. She still wasn’t completely sure why, but at this point it was enough to know he would come when she called. „I’m fine, Greg,“ she said more firmly. „I have police protection, a home alarm – “
„Both of which served you well last night,“ he said sarcastically.
She conceded his point with a nod, not letting herself think about how vulnerable she really was. „I’m considering a dog.“
He looked unappeased. „A big one?“
„A nasty one with three heads. I’ll name him Cerberus.“
Greg frowned, then relaxed a little. „You’ll get one soon?“
„Maybe tomorrow.“
A knock interrupted them and Lois stuck her head in. „Kristen, you have a visitor.“
Kristen’s smile dimmed. „Refer them to John. I’m on vacation.“
Lois shook her head. „Personal.“ She opened the door wider and Owen’s face appeared, followed by the rest of him. He held a brown paper bag that smelled wonderful.
„You didn’t come by for lunch,“ he said reproachfully and Greg stood up.
„Dog, tomorrow?“ Greg urged.
„Promise.“ Greg left and Owen entered, frowning at the box on her desk.
„What is this?“
Kristen waved a careless hand. „Oh, I’m just cleaning up a few files.“
„Why did that man say ‘dog, tomorrow’?“
„I’m getting a dog,“ she said lightly. „What’s inside the bag?“
„Soup and a Reuben. I didn’t think you liked dogs. That blind guy came into the diner one day with a Seeing Eye dog and you sneezed your way into next week.“
„Pie?“ she asked, hoping she could redirect Owen with talk of food.
„Dutch apple, Vincent’s family recipe. Why are you getting a dog?“
Kristen opened the bag and sniffed appreciatively. „I’m starving. I didn’t have time for lunch.“ Truthfully, she’d been afraid to leave the office to get lunch, which added to the general annoyance hanging over the day.
He closed the bag just as she reached in. „Dog. Now. What happened?“
„Oh, I’m getting some annoying people at the house because of all this humble servant nonsense.“ She pasted a smile on her face to keep him from worrying. „I promised the guys I’d get a dog to scare them away.“
His eyes narrowed. „That’s all? Just annoying people?“
She nodded. „Totally annoying. So how’s the new fry cook?“
Owen scowled and gave her the bag. „He quit. Hired a new one, but he’s sorry, too. So why didn’t you come by the diner all weekend? You’re not on some fad diet, are you?“
Kristen chuckled. Between Reagan’s gyros and Italian food and his mother’s ham, she hadn’t eaten so well in years. „No. Actually I’m…“ She faltered. „I’m seeing someone.“ She shrugged when a delighted smile broke across Owen’s face. „He feeds me.“
„Excellent. Excellent news. And what’s his name?“
„Abe Reagan.“
Owen’s eyes narrowed again. „The detective on this murder case?“
„Yes.“ She took the lid off the bowl of soup. „Why?“
„I don’t know. Just seems dangerous.“
No more dangerous than my own life, she thought.
Owen’s face softened. „He’s good to you?“
She thought of the night before, of this morning, of his patience and gentleness and felt her cheeks heat. „Yes. Yes, he is.“
„That’s good enough for me. Eat. I have to get back before Vincent kills the new cook.“
Kristen smiled at that. „Somehow I can’t see Vincent getting that mad ever.“
„You’d be surprised. Man has quite a temper.“
Kristen was genuinely astonished. „Vincent?“ A temper? And her mind wandered, for just a moment, considering. A stupid moment. There was no way Vincent could hurt another soul. But still, stranger things had happened.
„Hmm.“ Owen backed up to the door. „He lost twenty bucks on the Bulls’ game last night and actually said ‘darn.’ He was fit to be tied.“
He was teasing her, Kristen realized and she laughed at herself for the split second she’d imagined Vincent in the role of the humble servant. „You’re bad, Owen.“
He grinned. „I know.“ He opened the door, nearly stumbling over Lois.
„Kristen, you have another visitor.“ She looked half-amused and half-harried, and a second later Kristen knew why.
„Kristen!“ Rachel Reagan bounded into her office. „Ooh, food. Can I have some?“
Kristen laughed, the day suddenly sunnier. „Sure, but don’t touch the apple pie. It’s mine. Rachel, this is my friend Owen. Owen, this is Abe’s younger sister, Rachel.“
Rachel smiled up at him, a smile purely reserved to charm people she hadn’t yet finagled into doing her bidding. „Nice to meet you, sir.“