Sara Paretsky - Sisters on the Case

This morning he wouldn’t have taken an overheard death threat against a cop seriously, but that was beforesomeone had bounced a rock off his own riot helmet and squirted a can of Coke into the eyes of one of the men in his detail. If Tomas Wojcek thought he could use the cover of the Marquette Park massacre to kill Tony-but had Tony, the most peaceable man on the force, whacked Tomas in the head hard enough to kill him? Bobby couldn’t picture it, unless Tony’d become as crazed by the heat and the ugliness of the mob as the rest of the cops in the park.

He got into the squad car Bernie and Boom-Boom arrived in and directed the driver to do a sweep of the park. Using the car loudspeaker, he kept calling Tony’s name, or calling out to clumps of cops as he passed to see if any of them had seen Warshawski. At Homan he was directed to the north end of the park, where Bobby finally ran Tony to earth. He was pushing a last bunch of rioters into the back of a paddy wagon when Mallory and Bernie went over to him.

Tony Warshawski was a big man, close to six-four. Like everyone else today, his face was red up to the circle cut into his forehead by the riot helmet he’d worn all day: above it, his skin looked almost dead white, but when Bobby and Bernie explained the situation to him, his whole face turned ashen beneath its burn.

‘‘Victoria? She came into this war zone hunting for me? Oh, my God, where is she? Bobby, I need a squad, I need to find her. How can I face Gabriella?’’

‘‘Tony, I’ll look. You’re too tired.’’ Bernie put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. ‘‘You get home, stay with Gabriella. She’s just about out of her mind, worrying about you and Tori both. And Marie, oh, my God, what a day-Tomas is dead, someone killed him over on the other side of the park. How will I tell her that? Boom-Boom, did your cousin say anything that-Boom-Boom? Bernard! Bernard Warshawski, come back here this minute! Now!’’

The three men looked around. Twilight was settling in; it was hard to see more than fifteen or twenty feet, and Boom-Boom had faded into the shrubbery around the lagoon.

As soon as his dad was occupied with Uncle Tony, Boom-Boom slipped off into the park. If Tori was still here, she’d be hunting for Tony. If she’d left for home, well, then she was safe, and he, Boom-Boom, could find out what was so mysterious about Wujek Tomas’s death. Tomas was his least favorite uncle, mean-spirited, prone to pinching Boom-Boom or Victoria so hard that he left bruises on their arms or bottoms, but it was still unsettling to see him like that, dead under a bush. And Mama! She would cry like the world was coming to an end. And somehow blame Victoria for it.

When Bernie had come home from his afternoon shift at the plant and Boom-Boom told him what had happened, Marie said, ‘‘Headstrong, how Gabriella spoils her. No daughter of mine would run off like that, not even a thank-you for lunch. No manners, of course, Italian, a Jew, they don’t know manners.’’

She hadn’t wanted Bernie to drive over to the park-they’d all seen the reports on television, the violence, white people fighting the police-but Gabriella had telephoned, asking for Victoria to come home; Marie had been forced to say that she’d run off.

Gabriella arrived two minutes later, still in the silk print dress she wore to give lessons, her dark eyes two large coals in her pale face. She had looked Marie in the eye, spat, and turned on her heel. She announced that she was leaving for Marquette Park at once, but of course, Bernie told her to stay home, that he’d drive to the park and find Tony and Victoria.

Boom-Boom headed for the center of the park, away from the knots of cops who still lingered, keeping out sightseers, or waiting for working squad cars to arrive if their own had been disabled. Many of the men were lying on the grass, helmets at their sides. Others were using their riot helmets as canteens, filling them at the fire hydrants and pouring the water over their sweaty bodies.

At the lagoons that ringed the interior of the park, Boom-Boom was startled to see how many cars had been pushed into the water. Some had been rolled in so they were upside down. He tried to guess how many men it would take to roll a car over and over like that. He wondered if the guys he played hockey with could do it.

As he continued east, toward the park entrance on Sacramento-since that’s where his cousin would have entered the park-he came on a white convertible whose front end was submerged, leaving the back sticking up in the air, almost. That looked like Wujek Tomas’s car. His body was over near Seventy-first Street. This didn’t make sense. If he’d been driving, he’d have drowned in the car. Why was the car here and Tomas half a mile away?

Boom-Boom stood next to the Wildcat, trying to decide if it was his uncle’s. He didn’t know the license plate number, but there was a little red scratch near the bottom of the driver’s door. If he could get into the water, he might be able to see it.

He was starting to untie his sneakers when a thumping from inside the trunk startled him. ‘‘If that’s your ghost, Wujek, don’t worry: I’m not here to hurt your car,’’ he called loudly to cover a moment’s fright.

‘‘Boom-Boom?’’

It was his cousin’s voice, faint, tremulous.

‘‘Tori! What are you doing in the trunk?’’

‘‘He put me there. Get me out, get me out before I die.’’

‘‘Hang on, I’ve got to get the trunk open. Don’t go anywhere, I need to find some way to smash the lock.’’

‘‘I’m not moving, dodo, but hurry, I’m fried alive and I’ve been sick in here.’’ Her voice ended in a gulp that sounded close to tears.

Boom-Boom looked frantically around the grounds. He’d seen guys break into cars plenty of times-also into trunks. He needed something like a chisel and a hammer to break the lock, or- In the massive amount of junk tossed by the rioters, he found a tire iron.

He ran back to the Wildcat and managed to pry open the trunk. His cousin was clinging to the spare tire. Her feet were damp from the lagoon water seeping into the trunk from the backseat, and the shirt he’d torn earlier in the day was covered with blood and mud and her own vomit. She was shaking from head to filthy toe; it was all Boom-Boom could do to help her crawl out.

It was dark by the time the cousins and their fathers found each other. When Victoria saw Tony, she burst into tears.

‘‘Pepaiola, mia cara, cuore mio ,’’ Tony crooned, the only Italian he’d picked up from Gabriella-my little pepperpot, he called his daughter. ‘‘What’s to cry about now, huh?’’

‘‘Uncle Tomas said he would kill you because he lost his job,’’ she sobbed. ‘‘I wanted to warn you, but this man, this friend of Uncle Tomas’s, he picked me up and put me in the trunk. I was scared, Papa, I’m sorry, but I was scared, I didn’t want you to die and I couldn’t tell you, and I didn’t want me to die, either.’’

‘‘No, sweetheart, and neither of us is dead, so it all worked out. Let’s get you home so your mama can stop crying her eyes out and give you a bath.’’

‘‘What man, Vicki?’’ Bobby asked-the only person who ever used a nickname that Gabriella hated.

‘‘The man with Uncle Tomas. I saw them when they-Daddy, they gave money to the cop at the intersection and he let them into the park. I took his picture-oh! my camera, he broke the strap and threw my camera away, my special camera you gave me, Papa, I’m sorry, I didn’t look after it like you made me promise.’’

Victoria started to cry harder, but Bobby told her to dry her eyes and pay attention. ‘‘We need you to help us, Vicki. We need to see if your camera is still here, if no one stole it. So you be a big girl and stop crying and show your uncle Bobby where you were when this man picked you up.’’