Only you couldn’t tell it from Danny.
“Mom,” he said, turning it into a whining two-syllable word, “can I just check in with you and Pop later? The doctor said he was going to pull through okay. Margie’s waiting downstairs. We were supposed to meet some friends tonight, at Riccardo’s-”
If he were my kid, I’d have decked him. But she just eased out of my grasp, a graceful woman despite her heft, and patted him on the cheek and said, “You were a good boy to come by here, Danny. Don’t you worry. Your pop’s going to be all right.”
Danny grasped one of her hands with both of his and put some warmth into his words: “I know he is, Mom. He’s a tough old guy. They aren’t going to get him.”
She beamed at him and he smiled and waved and headed down the hall. Jim, Jr., seemed faintly disgusted by all this. So was I. Even the two coppers guarding the double doors rolled their eyes at each other.
“He’s a good student,” she said to me, smiling, proud, face streaked black by mascara. “He’ll make a wonderful lawyer someday, Mr. Heller.”
“I’m sure he will, Mrs. Ragen.”
“I hope his father lives to see it.”
“Me, too, Mrs. Ragen. I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job today for him. I’m sorry I let this happen.”
She smiled at me sympathetically and patted my cheek like she had her son. Neither of us deserved the treatment.
I showed her and Jim, Jr., to Ragen’s private room in the Meyer House wing. Settled Mrs. Ragen in the lounge chair and her son at the writing desk, and explained the security measures I’d already taken and intended to take, including that they use their own family physicians to attend Jim.
“I’m sure Dr. Graaf will be glad to help out,” Jim, Jr., said.
“And Dr. Snaden is in town,” Mrs. Ragen said, looking at her son eagerly, as he nodded back with a small smile. “He’s been our doctor in Miami for years.” She looked at me and needlessly added, “We have a place down there.”
“Is Snaden going to be in town long?”
“He’s moving his practice out to California someplace,” the son said, nodding. “His practice in Miami has fallen off some, and some of his patients have moved to the West Coast. He was from here originally-still has a place here, in fact-and told me he was going to be on hand for several months, settling various matters.”
“Good. Lucky break. If he and your other doctor will cooperate, it’ll help us keep close tabs on Mr. Ragen’s recovery. I want only a few trusted parties able to get into this room-including medics.”
Mrs. Ragen smiled up at me like I was somebody really special; it was a nice smile, even streaked black like that.
“Mr. Heller,” she said, “I can understand why my niece is in love with you.”
That damn near made me blush; first time this decade.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said.
“Neither do I,” a hard-edged yet melodic voice said.
I turned and looked at Peggy Hogan, who was standing in the doorway of the room, her violet eyes red from crying, her jaw tight but trembling. She was wearing a dark blue dress with a white floral pattern; her hands, at her sides, were fists.
She whisked past me and went to her aunt and said a few words of comfort to her, putting a hand on her shoulder; she smiled and nodded at Jim, Jr., and then she turned to me and said, “Let’s talk in the hall.”
I followed her out there; we walked down to a lounge area between corridors. There were several chairs and couches, but we didn’t sit.
“I should be very angry with you,” she said, lower lip trembling.
“You’re doing a damn good job of faking it, if you aren’t.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t take any dangerous jobs. You promised me that was behind you.”
“Something came up…I had to fill in…”
“People shooting at you in the street! You shooting at them!”
“You used to like life not to be dull.”
“I was a kid, then. I was attracted to danger.”
“Here I thought it was my boyish charm.”
Then she clutched me, held me to her, hugging for dear life.
“Nate, Nate,” she said. She was sobbing. Christ, she was sobbing! What was this about?
She moved back to look at me, keeping her arms around me. Freckles on her nose made her look like a kid. “I was so worried when I heard.”
“How did you hear, anyway?”
“Lou Sapperstein. He called.”
“What did he call you for?”
“He didn’t. He called you and got me. I was waiting for you. At the Morrison. We had a date tonight, remember?”
She had a key.
“Oh, hell. I forgot all about it…”
“Never mind that. Just let me hold you.” She held me. “Hold you.”
I squeezed her tight. She smelled good. Not like face powder, or roses, either. Probably the Chanel #5 I bought her.
Then I broke the clinch.
“Peg, what did Lou want?”
“He said he’d found the guy you were looking for.”
“Tendlar?”
“I think so. Who’s that?”
“A guy that works for me. A guy that used to work for me, anyway. What else did Lou say?”
“He said he was sitting on the guy for you.”
I smiled. “Good. Anything else?”
“He said to tell you this guy wasn’t feeling good and needed some special medicine.” Peggy made a confused face. “He said to tell you you were going to have to feed this guy…this doesn’t make sense…a certain fish.”
I laughed. “It makes sense to me. I’m going to have to make a call, and get somebody to take my place, here.”
“Aren’t you going to look after my uncle?”
“I can’t do it twenty-four hours a day, Peg…but I’m going to do my best to keep him alive.”
“You didn’t do so good this afternoon, did you?”
“Are you scolding me?”
“No.” She came back into my arms. “I was sick when I heard. Worried for you. Scared to death for Uncle Jim. He’s been so good to me, Nate.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
She kissed me; sweet and long.
“You don’t taste like chopped liver,” she said.
“Neither do you,” I said, and kissed her back.
She pulled away, straightened her dress and said, “Those gangsters did this, didn’t they?”
“Sure.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m going to try to keep your uncle alive, for the immediate future. And then convince him to sell his business to them.”
The violet eyes popped open like windows whose shades got yanked. “Give
“Of course, give in to them. What else?”
She shook a fist. “Well, fight them, of course! Like Uncle Jim!”
“Yeah-just like Uncle Jim. Who’s on his back with his collarbone shattered and his arm mangled, throwing down transfusions like a drunk with a fifth of whiskey and a water glass.”
