CHAPTER NINE

The beautiful widow of Andrew Bedford answers the door when I knock. "Good evening, Mrs. Bedford," I greet her. "Is your son at home?"

Colleen's eyes knit together in confusion. "No. He's not here, Detective. Can I help you with something?"

Now that I know he ain't here, plenty. "You mind if I come in and ask a few questions? Your son kinda hurried me out of here the other day."

She steps back and lets me in. I remove my hat. "Thanks. Mrs. Bedford….do you know what your husband was working on in his office the night he died?"

She leads me into the kitchen and sits me down at the table with a cup of coffee. It's not as good as Stella's. "I don't know for certain," she says, "but I imagine it had something to do with the parade tomorrow morning."

"This parade is a big deal, huh?"

She smiles. "Andrew wanted to say thank you to the city for their patronage, and for their support. The parade is a wonderful way to give back."

"It is." I have to shift topics now, and I know she won't be smilin' anymore. "Mrs. Bedford…where was your son the night your husband died?"

The dark cloud rolls in, and the smile edges off her face. "I-I don't know," she says. "I expect he was out with friends."

"How was the relationship between your son and your husband?" I ask her.

She doesn't say anything. "Drew did not kill his father," she says finally, but I can hear it in her voice. She doesn't believe it anymore than I do.

"Try again," I suggest.

"They were in an argument the night he died. Before I left the house, I could hear them yelling at each other in the study."

"And you didn't think this was important enough to share with the cops?"

"I didn't think it mattered," she explains. "They argued, and Drew stormed out of the apartment. My husband was alive when he left, and when I left the house, I-I don't understand-"

"Do you know what they were arguing about?" I cut her off. I don't like bein' an ass, especially to a woman, but I'm not gettin' anywhere with a kind word right now, so it's time to bring in the gun.

"No, I don't," she says. "But Drew didn't kill my husband, detective."

I stand. "I know he didn't, Mrs. Bedford," I say, putting my hat on. "But I think it was his idea." I leave her crying in the kitchen as I take the elevator back downstairs. Once downstairs, I borrow a phone and call Danny at his and Lindsay's hotel. "Hey, it's Flack," I say. "Wanna do some breakin' and enterin' with me, for old times' sake?"

"Just don't tell my wife," he chuckles. "Where am I meetin' you?"

"The warehouse where the Macy's parade prep is happening."

He laughs. "I can save us the trouble of havin' to break in, fun as that would be. Let me have my wife call Jo Danville."

"Meet you there."

The warehouse is completely dark, and all activity has ceased by the time Danny and I get there with Jo Danville. "Seems like it would be really busy right now, seein' how the parade is in less than 12 hours," Danny says as Jo unlocks a side door.

"The real prep won't happen for at least another six hours," Jo explains as she slides the door open. "I told everyone to go home and get some rest before things get down to the wire."

"Ma'am, what's your opinion of Drew Bedford?" I ask as we step inside the dark warehouse.

She rests her hand on one of the large switches for the lights before answering. "I don't particularly care for him," she admits to me. "He's very arrogant, and he's very rude to my employees. Just because he's the boss's son doesn't give him the right to act like he runs the show."

"Sure doesn't," I mumble as she flips on a row of lights. White light blazes in the room. I hear a loud crack and something pings off the handle, where Jo's fingers were. "Someone's shootin'!" Danny announces unnecessarily as he grabs Jo and throws her down behind a stack of crates. I dive behind it too, joining them and pulling my gun from my shoulder holster. "You see him?" I ask Danny. Danny pokes his head out from the crate, then ducks it again as a shot nails the box at his eyeline. He yelps in surprise. He points. "Yeah, he's up there somewhere."

"Thanks for finding him."

"Shut up."

I turn to Jo. "Where are the ladders for those catwalks up there?"

"There's one on the far wall, over there," Jo says. "If I can get to the light switch and turn it off, you could get up the ladder and get up there before he sees you," she suggests.

Danny and I exchange glances. "Flip you for it?" he suggests.

"Odds or evens?"

"Evens!"

"Really, boys?" Jo groans between us. I hold up four fingers, and Danny holds up three. "Damn," Danny mutters. He gets to his feet.

"All right Miss Danville," I say, pulling the hammer back on my revolver. "I'll cover you. On the count of three…"

"Oh sure, you'll cover her," Danny grumbles.

"You'll have the lights off, quit yer whinin'," I shoot back. "One…two…." I lean out and pop off a shot that goes somewhere near the ceiling. "Three." Jo ducks out, her hand goes for the light switch, and she slams it down. The place plunges into darkness. I hear Danny take off at a sprint for the side wall. "Count to ten, then flip it back on," I whisper to Jo. I lean out again and throw up another shot. But I'm not tryin' to hit anything.

A split second later, I see a muzzle flash, feel something go whizzing by my head,and I hope Danny saw it too. You're leadin' him right to you, ya bastard. I'm counting the seconds in my head…eight, nine ten.

Jo flips the lights back on. I continue to draw fire, popping off another shot up where I saw the muzzle flash. I can see Danny out of the corner of my eye making his way around on the catwalk, around to where the shooter is. Pretty soon I hear yelling, hear metal on metal, the sound of fist hitting fist, and someone goes flying off the catwalk and into a pallet of cotton, or polyester, or would know exactly what it is, but I don't have a clue. I leap out from behind the crates, yell at Jo to stay down, and run over and haul the bruised and battered self of Shane Casey out of the fabric. Up above me, I see Danny looking down at me. "Nice aim!" I yell up to him.

"Thanks. Be down in a sec."

I haul Shane Casey up. He's half out of it. "Hey Jo? Do me a favor, go call Mac Taylor at the 12th." I give Casey a shake. "Hey, scumbag, stay with me. You ain't allowed to check out yet, not til I've got a few answers."

Danny jogs across the floor and joins us. "Hiya Casey," he greets the former enforcer. "You look like hell."

"I ain't tellin' you anything," Casey growls at me.

"Hey, you are awake," I reply. "Come on now, I only have two questions, and they're easy ones." I throw him on his back on top of the fabric and stick my gun in his ear. "Or I can do this how ol' Al Capone thought it should be done."

"Funny, that's how Sassone thought it went too," Danny notes with a grim smile.

"Taylor and his boys'll be here any minute, buddy," I inform Casey, getting right in his face. "And I'm on good terms with the DA, so we can maybe talk a deal."

"Or we could just shoot him," Danny offers.

"Or that," I agree. "I know you know Drew Bedford," I tell him. "I wanna know what the two of you were lookin' for in this warehouse the other day."

Casey keeps his mouth shut. I pull the hammer back on my gun. "You know what I think? I think they'll take you in, and I'll get a call from my secretary tellin' me that you work at the chemical place where the Central Park Zoo gets their stuff. I bet you nicked a bottle of ketamine from their shipment, and I bet you gave it to Dean Truby. And I bet you got paid real good to do it too."

"Yo Flack," Danny says from the other side of the pallet. "Look at this!"

I keep my gun trained on Casey as I glance up to see Danny holding a clear bottle aloft. He gives it a shake. "Wanna bet that's ketamine?" He glances at the tag on the bottle. "Dr. Sheldon Hawkes, DVM," he reads. "Hawkes, ain't that the guy that works at the zoo?"

"Sure is," I confirm. "You see Casey? I really don't need you. I could just pop you right now, and Chief Taylor would look the other way. But I don't think you masterminded the deaths of Dean Truby and Andrew Bedford, I think it was Bedford Junior. You really wanna go away for two murders?"

"I didn't kill nobody!" Shane Casey howls.

I grin. "But you know who did, don't you?"

"He'll kill me if he finds out!"

"Buddy, I'll kill you right now if you don't tell me!" I jab the gun farther into his ear, and he yelps in pain.

"Yeah! Yeah it was Bedford! He wanted me to get the stuff! I gave it to him! What he did with it afterwards I got no idea!" he cries out. "B-but I know he called Truby stupid for tryin' to rob those two guys on the street, and he killed him! I was there, I saw him do it!"

"Why?" I demand. "Why did he kill his father?"

"No! I ain't sayin' anything else!" And with that, Casey clamps his mouth shut, just as Taylor and his boys burst in.

"Damn it!" I yell, frustrated. Still can't close the books on this one…not yet.