James Patterson - Honeymoon

“Yeah. Wet means we’re busier than usual.”

“I bet. Why go out for dinner in the rain when you can have someone bring it to you, right?”

The Tourist returned with a twenty in his hand. “Here you go,” he said. “Call it even.”

The delivery guy handed over the pizza and took the twenty. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He reached inside his raincoat and smiled. “Only we’re not quite even yet.”

The Tourist frantically swung a hand behind his back, but it was too late, too slow. His gun was a distant second to the one pointed at his chest.

“Don’t move!” said the pizza guy. He walked around and relieved the Tourist of the Beretta tucked into his jeans. “Now place both hands against the wall.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna make you wish you’d ordered Chinese, O’Hara. ”

Chapter 62

FEELING INCREDIBLY STUPID, John O’Hara, the Tourist, allowed himself to be patted down. He couldn’t believe he’d been suckered by this kid, this young pup, this whelp.

“Okay, turn around slowly.”

O’Hara did a 180. Very slowly.

“Now, where is it?” the guy asked. “The suitcase. What’s inside. Whatever you’ve got.”

“I don’t know. Honest, man.”

“Bullshit. Man. ”

“Hey, I’m telling you the truth. I handed it off as soon as I got it. A garage in New York.”

The delivery guy pressed the barrel of his gun to O’Hara’s forehead. Hard, so it hurt. “Then I guess there’s nothing left to talk about.”

“You kill me and you’re dead within twenty-four hours. You. Personally. That’s the way it works.”

“I don’t think so,” Pizza Guy said, and cocked the gun.

O’Hara tried to read the kid’s eyes. He didn’t like what he saw. Coldness and confidence. This guy probably worked for the file’s original seller. Maybe he was the seller. “Okay, okay, hold on. I know where it is.”

“Where?”

“I have it here. I had it all the time.”

“Show me.”

O’Hara led him down the hallway to the bedroom. He could hear the faint sound of a neighbor’s stereo. Thought about screaming for help. “Under the bed,” he said. “I’ll get it. It’s in my duffel bag.”

“You just stay where you are. I’ll look under the bed for both of us.”

The delivery guy bent down to take a peek. Sure enough, there was a black duffel. He grinned. “You don’t know what it is, do you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because if you did, I don’t think you’d be sleeping here with it.”

“Then I guess I should be happy to give it back to you.”

“That’s right. Now, pull it out. Nice and easy.”

“What’s your part in this? You the seller? Or are you another messenger?”

“Just pull out the bag. I’m a messenger, by the way. Like my friend. Guy you shot at Grand Central Station. He was like a brother to me.”

The Tourist knelt and slowly began to reach under the bed.

“Keep one hand on top of the bed,” said Pizza Guy.

“Whatever you say.” With his left hand perched on the bedsheets, the right disappeared, looking for the duffel bag.

And the gun taped to the side.

“You got it?” asked the delivery guy. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Yeah, I got it. Relax a little, huh? We’re both pros, right?”

“One of us seems to be.”

O’Hara swung out his arm and fired two shots, the bullets ripping through the guy’s chest. He fell to the floor, dead. Actually, there were two of the dead guy in the double-mirrored closet door, which was doubly creepy.

O’Hara checked for ID. He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t find any. Not even a wallet.

He went out to the kitchen and made the requisite phone call. They’d come and remove the body, even clean up the bloodstains on the carpet. They were very efficient. Until then, there was only one thing to do.

He opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice of sausage and onion. The first bite is always the best. And now, as he chewed his food, came the questions for the ages, the only ones that counted. Who had sent Pizza Guy after him? Who knew he was there? Who wanted him dead?

And how could he use any of this to his advantage in the future?

Oh yeah, and did he have a future?

Chapter 63

“WHAT HAVE YOU been up to, O’Hara?”

“Oh, this and that. You know me, I keep myself busy. How about our little test on the late Connor Brown?”

“Nothing… nada… zip,” said Susan, disappointed.

After two days of waiting at my temporary apartment, I got a call from her late in the afternoon. Connor Brown’s second autopsy report had just landed on her desk. Susan told me that the more comprehensive tests showed basically the same result. The guy died of cardiac arrest. No sign of foul play. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Was there anything this time around that the first autopsy didn’t show?” I asked.

“Only a pretty nasty ulcer,” she said. “Of course, with a guy working in finance who dies of a heart attack at forty, there’s no real big surprise there.”

“No, I suppose not. That was it, nothing else?”

“Oh, you mean, besides the abrasions from the body falling out of the coffin?”

“Shit, the kid from the pathology lab squealed, didn’t he?”

“No, actually it was the cop who’s still throwing up three days later, thanks to you.”

I found myself smiling at an old image in my memory file.

“It was a dirty job and somebody had to help do it.”

“Somebody besides you, naturally.”

“Hey, the guy didn’t laugh at my jokes.”

“Say no more.”

“So, I guess it’s time to give Nora a call.”

“I had a thought on that,” she said. “Maybe you should stall on the test results, see if she starts to get shaky.”

“Were it anybody else, I’d say yes. Not with Nora, though. The only thing she’d get is more suspicious. I’m afraid she’d pull back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Sure as I can be. I think if there’s a break to be had with her, it comes when she believes everything is hunky-dory.”

“As in, the money is on its way?”

“Right. Let her know for a fact she’s about to become one point nine million dollars richer.”

“That would make me feel hunky-dory.”

“You and me both.”

“This means you’re going to have to work faster,” Susan said. “As excuses go, ‘the check is in the mail’ buys you only so much time.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. Craig Reynolds has built up a lot of goodwill with her. Even more so when I call with the good news.”

“Just remember one thing,” said Susan. There’s always “one thing” more with her.

“What’s that? Today’s ‘one thing more’?”

“While you’re working to get Nora to drop her guard, make sure you don’t drop yours.”

Chapter 64

I DIDN’T WASTE any time. After I hung up with Susan I dialed Nora on her cell. She didn’t answer. I left a message and was sure to mention I had some good news for her.

Nora didn’t waste any time, either. She called me back almost immediately. “I could use some good news,” she said.

“I thought you probably could. That’s why I called you right away.”

“Is it regarding…” Her voiced trailed off.

“Yes, the results came back from the second autopsy,” I said. “While I’m not sure if ‘good news’ is the way to put it, you’ll be glad to know all the follow-up tests confirmed the conclusion of the original autopsy.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Nora, are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said before another patch of silence. “You’re right. ‘Good news’ isn’t really the way to describe it.”