On the elevator, Neary sighed loudly. “Not just another pretty face, is he?” he said.
“But a great personality. My guess is he won’t have a lot of second thoughts.”
“He won’t have any. We’ll pull together a list of the people my crew has ID’d and see if anybody in my shop knows any of them. If they do, that might give us a place to start.”
It was warmer outside, but compared to Czerka’s office the air seemed fresh and clean. We walked back to Broadway in silence and stopped outside the subway station.
“What do you think happened to Stevie?” I asked.
“Tripped over a barbell maybe?”
“Maybe it outsmarted him.”
I was still trying to clear my lungs when I pushed open the glass and wrought-iron door of my building and stepped into the entry vestibule. And then I stopped. There was a large manila envelope taped to my mailbox. It was blank except for my name, which was printed in capitals, in black marker. I peeled it off the mailbox door. It was light. I opened the flap. There were just a few sheets of paper inside. I slid them out and felt a rush of heat in my face and a surge of blood through my temples.
They were photographs, in color, printed on plain paper. Their quality was mediocre at best, but the subjects and their surroundings were clear enough and so were the little date-and-time stamps in the corners.
“Jesus.” My legs felt shaky and my heart was pounding, as if I’d just run a long way. I leaned against the wall for a moment. “Jesus.” I pulled out my cell phone.
My fingers felt clumsy as I punched her number. Jane’s phone seemed to ring forever, and I looked down at the photos while I listened. Her assistant finally answered.
“Jane Lu’s office.”
“Is she there?” My throat was tight and it was hard to get the words out.
“Hi, John. I’m afraid she’s not available right now.”
I ground my teeth. “Is she in, though- actually in the office now?”
“Oh, yes. She’s in the conference room, in a meeting.”
“You’re sure of that? You’ve seen her?”
“I just saw her go in.” She sounded puzzled. “Is something wrong, John?”
Something loosened in my chest. “No, nothing. Just have her call me when she gets out. First thing, okay? Tell her it’s important.” I hung up and punched another number. Janine answered.
“Johnny- you must’ve read my mind. I was just about to give you a call.”
“Are the boys at home, Janine?”
“They just this minute walked through the door,” she said.
I let out a deep breath.
“They’re still washing up, so they haven’t opened them yet.”
My throat tightened up. “Opened what?” I said.
Janine laughed. “The presents you sent. They came about an hour ago. But what’s in them, Johnny? And what’s the occasion?”
Peter Spiegelman
JM02 – Death's Little Helpers aka No Way Home
23
“Tell me what the hell this is if not a warning shot,” I said to Tom Neary. I tossed the envelope in his lap and got into the back of the Volvo sedan. It was double-parked in front of Jane’s office on West 22nd Street, and Sikes and Pritchard were sitting up front. “And tell me who it’s from, if not that bloated bastard.”
Neary took out the photos. There were three of Jane- leaving our apartment building, entering her office building, getting into a cab someplace in midtown- and three of my nephews, Derek and Alec- outside of their apartment building, in the park, and leaving their school. Neary studied them carefully and I looked along with him, until another wave of anger came over me and I turned away and stared out the window. But it did no good. The scene uptown kept playing in my head.
Janine had met me in the lobby of her building. Her face was pale and she was rigid with worry and embarrassment. Her voice was a stiff whisper.
“What is going on, John?”
“Where are the boys?” I asked. The doorman and the concierge were casting sidelong looks at us, and Janine took my arm and led me to the sidewalk.
“They’re around the corner, at the Miltons’. What is this about?”
“You left the packages upstairs?”
Janine’s blue eyes narrowed and flashed. “Yes. Now for God’s sake tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t know who sent them, but those packages are a message- a warning- to me. They go along with some photos I received today.”
“Photos of what?”
I took a deep breath. “Some were of Jane… and some were of the boys.” Whatever color was left in Janine’s face drained away. Her eyes went wide and her hands went to her mouth.
“Jesus Christ,” she said, and stepped away from me. A long black car pulled up to the curb and Ned got out of the back. His face was rigid. He looked at Janine and then at me.
“What the hell is going on here?” he said. I told him about the photos and the packages and what I thought they meant, and as I did he shook his head and ran his hand through his gingery hair. When I finished he stared at the pavement for a long time and said nothing. Then he turned to Janine.
“Why don’t you sit in the car, Jan?” he said softly. Janine murmured something and moved to the curb. Ned’s driver jumped out and held the door. Janine glared at me coldly as she climbed inside.
“If you give me the keys, I’ll get the packages and get out of here,” I said to Ned. He nodded and fished in his pocket.
The packages were in the foyer, in a plain brown shopping bag, and both of them were wrapped in gold paper. They were rectangular, about the dimensions of a medium-sized phonebook but much lighter. Janine was still in the car and Ned was still standing by the curb when I returned. His face was lined and sagging. I handed him his keys.
“I’m sorry about this,” I said.
“You know, you’ve terrified Janine and the kids. And you’ve certainly scared the hell out of me. My God, Johnny, what kind of a life are you leading that this sort of thing happens? What kind of thing have you brought to our door?” He stopped and took a deep breath and softened his voice a little. “Janine’s upset right now and so am I, and she- we both- think maybe it’s best if you don’t come around for a while.”
I looked at Ned for a moment and nodded. “Sure,” I said, and walked away.
“What was in the packages?” Neary asked, bringing me back to the car.
“Jigsaw puzzles, one of a talking train and another of that furry dinosaur. Somebody’s idea of funny.” I looked over at Neary. “Tell me it’s not a warning shot,” I said again.
“To back off of Danes?”
“It’s the only thing I’m working on.”
Neary shook his head slowly. “I’m not so sure it’s Marty.”
“Who else can it be? Are you saying that somebody else is running a tail on me, and your guys somehow missed it?”
Neary sighed, and Sikes and Pritchard shifted uncomfortably in the front seat.
“Marty’s boys were the only ones we saw out there, and I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who took these photos. But I’m not sure Marty organized all this. And if you’d calm down a little and think about it, you might agree.”
I took a deep breath and ran my hand across the back of my neck. It was warm and sticky. “Okay, all calm now. What am I supposed to think about?”
“The timing, for one thing,” Neary said. “Not even an hour went by between the time we left Marty’s office
