Backfire

31

Hyde Street, Russian Hill

San Francisco

Sunday night

Eve’s back hurt so badly when they arrived at her condo she didn’t think she could walk a step until Harry’s hand cupped her elbow. “Harry’s hands are here to minister to you so you have a chance at some sleep tonight. First, though, you need a long, hot shower. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“I can make you some coffee.”

“I’ll make it while you shower. After you’re dry and warmed up, I’ll see to your back. I’ll call Feng Nian Palace and get us some Chinese delivered. We can stretch out in front of the TV, watch what’s left of the football game, and munch on egg rolls.”

After her shower, Eve walked into the living room to see the Patriots’ QB Tom Brady complete a pass to Wes Welker and gave a small cheer. “I think Wes Welker would make a great marshal,” she said. “He’s strong and fast, and you can tell that brain of his is high-voltage.” She grinned down at Harry as she tossed him the tube of muscle cream. She carefully sat beside him on the sofa, eased her robe off her shoulders, and leaned forward. Her hair was loose down her back. He looked at her hair for a moment, then shoved it over her shoulder and began smoothing the cream over her back. He stroked her until the final whistle blew. She really didn’t want him to stop, but finally she said, “Your hands will cramp up. I’m fine now, thank you. I can’t believe how stiff I was. Goodness, it’s almost nine o’clock. Are you hungry yet?”

“Dinner should be here any minute. You feel okay?”

“Better,” she said, “much better.” She realized her robe was still down. She quickly shrugged it back up, closed it, and tied the belt. She turned to face him, lightly laid her hand on his arm. “You’re very kind, Harry, thank you.”

Harry was silent for only a moment, then said, “Sherlock told me about Mrs. Howell’s homemade pizza for her son, Boozer, how delicious it was at eleven o’clock this morning. I was thinking we eat too much pizza-so we’re having Szechuan. That okay with you?”

“It’s great. Do you know I can’t imagine an amateur trying to find a vein in my arm and poking that needle in a dozen times? It’s too bad the guy had his face and head covered up.”

Harry said, “Yeah, but we were real lucky today-if those kids hadn’t seen him, we’d still be looking for Mickey O’Rourke.”

“Yes, forever. Hey, what do you want with your fried rice? A beer?”

Harry asked for water. He watched her walk to her kitchen. She looked looser, walked more easily. He said, “I called Cheney while you were in the shower. He said Mrs. O’Rourke was brave, that was the word he used. I guess he was expecting her to fall apart, but she didn’t. She told him she wanted to be the one to tell her daughters. The chaplain stayed, but Cheney’s home now.”

“I hope I don’t ever have to tell someone their husband or wife is dead. By violence.”

“Agreed. I called Officer Mancusso and asked him to unplug the TV and call if Ramsey happens to find out something. He said he’d alert the nursing staff to keep quiet as well.”

“That’s good, Harry. I’ll tell you, Molly looked so beaten down, so afraid for Ramsey today, that she shouldn’t have to handle any more tonight.”

“We should be okay until morning now,” Harry said.

Eve handed him his water. “I’m thinking our killer has been making a few mistakes. Like the kids seeing him today. You know he never wanted Mickey O’Rourke to be found. And he failed to kill Ramsey twice.”

Harry took a drink from the Pellegrino bottle. “I can’t help but think he’s not altogether sane.” He stopped, shook his head. “Just shoot me. I don’t know what to think anymore, but I do know this has got to be a huge hit for him. Any time now he’s going to listen to the news and hear about Mickey O’Rourke being dug up. So what does he do now?”

Eve said, “Good question. He isn’t going to give up, that’s all I’m sure of. If Savich is right, he’s in the spy business. I don’t imagine you can survive very long doing that unless you’re real careful. But he hasn’t been careful, has he, at least with his two attempts on Ramsey’s life?”

Harry said, “He tried to be with burying Mickey O’Rourke; just bad luck for him there.”

“We’ll find out from forensics tomorrow if he left any prints in that shack. And if Sherlock is right that he’s spent time in prison, we’ll have him.”

Eve took a pull of her beer. “Why did you and your wife divorce?”

The doorbell rang. The food.

She said, “Give him a big tip, Harry, I’m really hungry.”

They were eating hot-and-sour soup when Eve said, “I’m sorry I asked you about your wife. I didn’t mean to. It popped out.”

“My ex-wife,” Harry said mildly, and finished off the bottle of Pellegrino.

“Nevertheless, it’s none of my business. I’ve only known you for a matter of days. Isn’t that amazing? So much has happened, it seems much longer.”

He said nothing, but she was right, it felt very odd.

Eve sat back against the sofa and immediately sat forward again at the stab of pain in her back. “I hate not having control. My dad’s the same way. I’ll tell you, Mom had to belt him lots over the years when he tried to be her camp commandant. I’ll bet they’ve both lost count.

“My four brothers are all grown up, and they laugh at him now when he tries to throw his weight around.” She drank the last of her beer. “My dad’s amazing. He reminds people of Tommy Lee Jones, though the two marshal movies came out before he started his service there.”

“Service where?”

“In Chicago. Didn’t you know, my dad’s the U.S. marshal in Chicago? He’s served as marshal there through two presidents.”

“I thought the marshal changed out with every new administration.”

“Once in a great while, an appointed marshal is so well regarded he’s left in place. My dad says he’s trained the toughest hard-asses in the United States Marshal Service right there in Chicago. He says they take no grief, since they have a responsibility to Tommy.” She paused for a moment. “He’s very good, my dad.”

“How does your dad treat you?”

Eve gave him a big smile. “You heard Dillon talk about the power of the ponytail? Works on my dad every time.”