7
I was walking toward city hall alongside Jack O'Donnell, nearly having to sprint to keep up. And his legs had an extra thirty years of mileage. I dialed Amanda, figured I'd say hi before radio silence. She picked up on the second ring. 'Hey, hon, can't talk for long, just wanted to say hi. I'm heading to the press conference with Jack. Think I can smell the mayor's cologne a mile away,' I said into the cell phone.
'Hey, babe. No problem,' she said. 'I'm about to go into the library and I think they've starting arming the cell phone police with automatic weapons.'
'Good thing you finally learned how to use the vibrate button.' Jack elbowed me. Amanda, I mouthed. He raised his eyebrows. Girlfriend. He opened his mouth to say ah. Then he ran his thumb across his throat. Cut it off. 'Anyway, I'd better turn this off. Jack is giving me dirty looks. I'll call you as soon as this circus is over.'
'Is it a three-ring circus, or does Athena Paradis warrant four?'
'You know, I think they might green-light the ever-elusive five-star circus. Just for Athena.'
'The news ran video of Costas Paradis getting off his private jet this morning. I've never much sympathized with billionaires, but you have to feel for the guy.'
I said nothing. Didn't have to.
'Give Jack my best. Knock the story out of the park, Henry.'
'Will do,' I said. 'Stay quiet.' I hung up. Jack was holding back a thin smile. 'What?'
He allowed a small chuckle. 'Like two sweet jaybirds, you two,' he said. 'Hope you don't mind my taking amusement in the love rituals of the young and naive.'
I eyed Jack's hand, barren of any rings or jewelry other than a swank Omega wristwatch. I knew he'd worn a ring, years ago. He never showed any desire to discuss it.
I took my press pass out of my pocket and looped the lanyard over my head. Jack did the same. We rounded the corner and immediately became two small fish in the biggest school I'd ever seen. There must have been five hundred members of the press corps standing outside of city hall.
Dozens of cameras, many of them live, along with Brylcreemed reporters and onlookers peeking out of open office windows for blocks in every direction. Millions of people would be watching this conference, whether live or on the evening news. Which made our jobs near impossible. How do you find a shadowy corner when there are hundreds and thousands of eyes scanning every inch?
We ducked under a rope and tried to push our way to the front.
'Easier to dig to China,' Jack said. 'Screw this. I don't need to be close to hear Perez.'
'He'll have the text up on his MySpace page within an hour anyway.'
'Perez has a MySpace page?'
'Facebook, too. Wants to hit the young voters.'
'Do young voters like him?' Jack asked.
'I wouldn't vote for him,' I replied. 'A little too much selfpromotion for my tastes.'
Jack pulled a pair of folding binoculars out of his pocket.
He stared through them, peered along the dais and around the surrounding area. When he was done he passed them to me.
I took in the scene. The marble steps leading to city hall were polished a gleaming white. The podium was empty, waiting for Mayor Perez and, I assumed, Costas Paradis.
Three uniformed police officers stood on either side of the podium. They stood straight, arms at their sides, guns visible.
I swung the binoculars from right to left. When I saw who was standing directly to the left of the podium, I nearly dropped the binoculars.
'I saw him, too,' Jack said. 'He's not here for you. Be a professional.'
'Professional,' I said, my mouth dry. 'Right.'
Standing to the left of the podium was Detective Lieutenant Joseph Mauser. One year ago, Detective Joe Mauser had chased me halfway across the country, shot me in the leg, and barely escaped with his life after taking three bullets in the chest.
I had followed Mauser's recovery over the months. Visited his guarded hospital room and was turned away by the very cops who'd wanted me dead before they found out the truth.
After two months in the hospital-fully recovered, minus one spleen, two ribs and twenty pounds-Joe Mauser transferred from the FBI to the NYPD. He attributed the transfer as a tribute to his fallen brother-in-law and in- arms, John
Fredrickson. The man whose death I was responsible for, indirectly or not. Mauser wanted to be closer to his sister, Linda,
John's widow. In various interviews, Mauser insinuated that he held no ill will toward me. That given the circumstances he would have defended his life and honor, as well. But a wound is a wound, no matter how it's caused, and the simple fact was his brother-in-law would still be alive if not for me.
Mauser had sold the book and film rights to his story for a reputed seven figures. He said the money wasn't for him, but would feed his sister's family, educate her fatherless children. If not for Mauser, my life wouldn't have been saved by a beautiful stranger. The same woman who now shares my bed. I guess we could call it even.
Mauser looked good, healthy and even a little tan. He looked like the kind of man who was proud to serve his city.
And I was glad to finally be on his side.
I could barely hear over the noise as reporters chirped into cell phones, cameras ran their feeds. Suddenly a hush came over the crowd and I saw Mayor Dennis Perez stride to the podium through the massive columns bracketing city hall.
Walking alongside Mayor Perez was Costas Paradis. The normally confident man looked pale, tired. But looking through the binoculars, I could see the anger that burned for his murdered daughter.
The mayor wore a striped gray suit and walked with a purpose. His mustache was neatly trimmed as always, but his eyes were bloodshot. He probably hadn't slept since Athena died. And Costas wasn't the kind of man to mourn. He was the kind of man whose grief turned to anger, whose anger turned to rage, and whose rage could scorch the earth. I just stood and hoped they found the killer before more families experienced that grief.
The crowd grew quiet. Though the majority in attendance were paid to speak, discuss and bloviate as loud as humanly possible, they also knew that if they missed a single word they could miss a scoop, fall behind, give people a reason to pick up a paper or watch a newscast other than theirs.
I thought about Wallace's sign by the elevators. Then I looked at the sea of microphones and suits. Just like a marathon, a giant mass beginning as one. But that wouldn't last. The good ones would break away.
Mayor Perez stepped to the podium. Costas Paradis stood next to Perez, and I could sense the mayor's discomfort, like a child forced to admit wrongdoing in front of an angry parent.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' he began. His eyes traveled from right to left. Making sure he made eye contact with every camera he could. Give each station their half second of exclusive content. 'At approximately one thirty-seven this morning, Athena Paradis was shot and killed as she was leaving a nightclub. This is a shocking and heinous crime, perpetrated by an individual whose depravity knows no bounds.
At this very moment we have unleashed the very best men and women upon the crime scene to establish just who is responsible for Ms. Paradis's death, as well as their motives in doing so. No stone will remain unturned, not a second will go by where Ms. Paradis's murderer will have a chance to breathe.'
Jack was scribbling in a notepad. I was watching their eyes. Mayor Perez. Costas Paradis. Joe Mauser. There was worry in them. Right then I knew they had nothing.
The mayor continued.
'The true test of a city is challenge. The test of a family is grief. In this investigation, we will grieve for the memory of
Athena Paradis, but rise to the challenge of bringing her killer to justice.'
'Second book,' Jack said, pen hanging from his mouth.
'What?'
