Brothers and Bones (15 page)

And what
about
Angel, my best friend? I had no idea what to think about him.

I headed across the lobby toward the doors on St. James Avenue. Before I reached them, I heard Jessica call to me. I turned and watched her walk toward me, quickly but gracefully, with her body barely hiding untapped strength and athleticism. I waited for her.

I said, “I figured you wouldn’t want me to come back to you in there after what just happened.”

“Thanks,” she replied, not disagreeing with me.

“I don’t know what that was, Jess. Why he freaked out like that.”

She nodded. “All right. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

She hesitated, then said, “You want to leave, of course.”

“Never wanted to leave a place more badly in my life.” I attempted a smile.

She nodded again. “Would you mind, though, if I stayed for a while?”

I wasn’t sure how to react. I did mind—a little—that she wanted to stay. She was my fiancée, my other half. She should have come home with me, made me feel better about what happened. It had been a hell of a night, and, sure, some of that was my doing, but that thing with Angel was a disturbing mystery I had nothing to do with. But I told her I understood.

“Call me tomorrow, okay?” she said.

“Sure.”

I watched her walk away. Then I saw Lippincott, standing off to the side of the lobby, talking on a cell phone and watching us. As Jessica walked by him, a somber look passed between them and I didn’t much care for it. It made me think of the way she had ended up right beside him after Angel had confronted me. And now she wanted to stay here tonight even though I could have made at least a reasonable argument that she should be leaving with me. Most likely she felt the need to do some damage control with the partners of her law firm, who, of course, knew we were engaged, but for some reason it almost felt to me like it had something to do with her father, like she needed to be with him rather than me. But perhaps I was reading too much into it. She probably just needed a little distance from me, just a little time without me after all this. That was understandable, right?

I saw Lippincott walking toward me, his cell phone still at his ear. Oh, great. I was looking forward to
this
. He stopped a few feet away and held up a single finger, indicating that I should wait. So, of course, I waited. And waited. And the phone call went on and on, with Lippincott looking my way every now and then and holding up that powerful, demanding finger. After several minutes, I moved over to an upholstered chair with gilded wooden legs and leaned against it. Waiting. After five more minutes I sat in the chair and waited some more. I was just considering taking a little nap when Lippincott tapped me on the shoulder. I stood up as he slipped his sleek little phone into the pocket of his tuxedo.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Problems with an FBI agent on a white-collar case.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Lippincott.”

A silence followed as Lippincott studied me. He certainly didn’t seem to be in a hurry to say whatever it was he had stopped me to say. That had me nervous.

“About our little talk earlier,” he said. Then he paused, waiting for me to speak. As usual, he was controlling the conversation, speaking when he wanted and compelling me to speak on cue.

“Yes, sir?”

“Well, I must say, I didn’t find that…spectacle in there very reassuring. That was Angel Medina, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

“He’s assisting on Redekov.”

“That’s right.”

“And he’s a friend of yours. A close one, I believe.”

“He is, sir, but I have to tell you, I have no idea—”

He shook his head and waved his hand slowly, as if he was trying to shoo away some very lazy gnats. “I don’t need to know specifics, Charlie. If this is personal, fix it right away. If it’s professional, fix it faster. Just make sure this doesn’t affect the trial. Understood?”

Frustrating. I wanted to make it clear that I had nothing to do with what happened with Angel, but Lippincott didn’t want to hear it. If the guy could read minds like everyone at the office thought he could, I wished he’d do so now. But he didn’t seem to be, so I said, “Absolutely, Mr. Lippincott. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll get things straightened out with Angel, whatever was bothering him.”

Lippincott said, “You performed very badly on your first day of the trial. I’m afraid tomorrow is your last chance, Charlie. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll have no choice but to make a change. Now,” he said, wrapping things up, “perhaps you should go home and get some rest. You don’t look well and tomorrow’s a big day.”

He turned without another word and walked back across the lobby. I stepped out onto St. James and into the first cab in a long line in front of the hotel. I gave the driver my address and sat back and closed my eyes. Things weren’t really resolved with Jessica yet and I had no idea what to think about my lunatic friend, but at least I still had a job—for a while, anyway.

I took out my cell phone and dialed Angel’s home number, knowing I’d reach his machine.

“Angel, it’s me. I don’t know what the hell you thought you were doing tonight, but we definitely need to talk. Jessica’s upset with me. Lippincott’s losing confidence in me, and I can’t imagine he’s too thrilled with you, either, by the way. You really screwed me, man.”

I snapped my phone shut and closed my eyes again. Angel and I were friends. Whatever had gotten into him, we’d probably talk tomorrow and straighten it out. But I was still pissed.

I had a few minutes of cab ride ahead of me and decided to use the time productively, thinking about the trial. I fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

The cab jerked to a stop in front of my building, jolting me from my slumber. I paid the meter and gave a decent tip, hoping the driver hadn’t taken advantage of my unconscious state to do laps around the Boston Common before dropping me off.

I climbed the stairs to my apartment, unlocked each deadbolt on my door, and went in. I was about to lock the door again from the inside when a voice came from behind me.

“Hey, Charlie.”

I whirled around and saw Angel Medina sitting in my La-Z-Boy.

“Angel? What are you doing here?”

“Came to talk. Man, look at your face. Jessica told me tonight that you got beaten up but she didn’t say how bad. And I didn’t notice before, when you and I…man, you look horrible.”

“Thanks.” I paused. “When did you talk to Jessica?”

“At the charity thing. A few minutes before I saw you. So, listen, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” No thanks to him. “So, you come to talk about my pretty face, or was there something else?” I didn’t need to hear how terrible I looked. I already knew. Besides, what Angel should have been saying was how sorry he was, and I wasn’t going to make nice with him until I got an industrial-strength apology and maybe—

I stopped dead. Something wasn’t right. I looked around my apartment. Things were different, not drastically so, but just a little out of place. Someone who didn’t live there might not notice, but the books weren’t lined up quite right in my bookcase, the drawer of my end table was open a hair, my desk chair was pulled farther out from my desk than I tend to keep it. Nothing of value was missing, at least nothing obvious, but someone had gone through my apartment, through my things.

“What the hell?” I said.

I looked at Angel, just sitting there in my recliner. After a brief pause, he said, “I know, somebody’s been here, right? I already called the police. They’re sending someone.”

I started walking around the room slowly, looking at the little things that weren’t as they should be. “Thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I wonder what they were—” I looked over at Angel again. “The door was locked when I came home just now.”

“I found it open when I got here and locked it behind me. Just in case the guy wasn’t done, I didn’t want him walking back in and surprising me, you know?”

Made sense. I took a deep breath and started putting things right, closing drawers all the way, lining up my books.

Angel said, “Better leave it the way we found it until the cops come, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah.” I wasn’t thinking clearly. I took off my tuxedo jacket and dropped it on a chair near the door, then walked toward the sofa to wait for the police. Before I reached it, I remembered that Angel hadn’t answered my question completely. “What exactly are you doing here?” I asked.

“Came to apologize for what happened earlier. You’re wondering what that was all about, huh? Sorry about that. Really. I guess I lost my head.”

That was it?
I lost my head?
It wasn’t even close to the bowing and scraping I deserved. “You sure as hell did. But why? What you were saying made no sense. I betrayed you? When?”

“Like I said, I lost my head.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I know, I know, Charlie. It was crazy. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. I hope you can forget about it.” He smiled that Angel smile of his and I wanted to forget about it. I really did. But I couldn’t.

“I’m probably in the shits with Jessica because of you. And Lippincott was already worried I couldn’t handle this trial. Our little altercation certainly didn’t help matters there.”

“What can I say, bro? I had too much to drink and I got a little crazy. Got a lot on my mind, I guess.” He stood and walked over to me without a stumble or a weave. “You understand that, don’t you, Charlie? I mean, you’ve been a little weird yourself lately.”

I was getting tired of hearing that. “How so?”

“Look, maybe it’s none of my business, but I’m your friend, right?” I was starting to wonder about that. “There’s obviously something up with you. A few days ago you’re going along fine, same old steady, dependable Charlie, and then, suddenly, you’re walking around with your head up your ass, you blow it in court, you’re falling asleep at your desk, you’re certainly not all there when anyone talks to you. Man, it’s obvious something’s going on. Tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”

I thought about telling him everything, like I had told Jessica. I studied his face. He seemed like good old Angel again, my buddy. Maybe he was right. Maybe he could help me. I could certainly cover more ground searching for Bonz if I had another pair of eyes looking. I’d just opened my mouth to begin the story when something shifted in Angel’s eyes. Something in there shimmered darkly, fleetingly, like a startled snake slithering quickly into its cold hole.

“Come on, Charlie,” he said, more forcefully than I would have liked. “Enough’s enough. Just tell me what’s on your mind lately. I know it’s not the trial. So what is it?”

He took another couple of steps in my direction. He didn’t seem the least bit drunk at the moment. I wondered if it was a coincidence that his steps took him between me and the door. I turned away, keeping an eye on him all the while, and wandered around the room. Something wasn’t right in Angel-land.

“How long until the cops arrive?” I asked. I tried to keep concern out of my voice.

“They didn’t say.”

I thought it best to keep him talking, at least until I could maneuver my way back to the door. “I still don’t get it, Angel. Why did you shove me tonight? You knocked me on my ass in front of Jessica, Lippincott, Kidder, people from the office, half the goddamn city. It was embarrassing.”

“Well,” he said, then hesitated a moment before adding, “just following orders, you know?”

I stopped and turned. “You were
told
to start an argument with me and knock me down?”

“That’s right.”

“By whom?” I asked. I wished Andrew Lippincott were there to hear my proper use of the pronoun.

“Come on, Charlie,” he said less than angelically, “no more games. We both know what’s been on your mind. Or, I should say, who.”

“We do?”

He looked annoyed, like I was wasting his time. “Tell me about
him
,” he said.

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

I did. He was talking about Bonz, of course. I didn’t know how he could be, or why he was, but he was. I had no doubt. But how could he know? I only told Jessica.… And then I remembered Angel saying that he had spoken with her earlier that night. Damn it, I swore her to secrecy.

“Where is he, Charlie?” Angel pressed. “Where does he live?”

I said nothing. Angel took a step toward me. Funny how I’d never noticed before that he was a little bigger than me.

“How do you contact him?”

He looked more fit, too, like he lifted weights, worked out a lot.

“When are you supposed to see him next?”

He took another step toward me and I tried to circle my way slowly toward the door. All pretense was gone now. Another thing I’d never noticed about Angel. His eyes seemed full of bad intention. How could I have missed that in the years I’d known him? He suddenly looked like a walking mug shot to me. If only I could stall him until the cops arrived. If only…oh, no. If only Angel had actually called the cops. Shit.

I spread my arms, taking in the room with the gesture. “What were you looking for in here, Angel?”

He smiled a smile different than I’d ever seen on his face. He still looked like a mug shot, just a happier one, like the guy in it had just beaten the holy hell out of someone and enjoyed every second of it.

“Something of Jake’s,” Angel said.

Jake’s
? What the hell did Jake have to do with this?

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” he asked. “Do you know where it is?”

Then things started coming into focus a bit. The picture was far from clear, but it was getting sharper around the edges. Jake. Bonz knew Jake. Angel knew about Bonz. This had something to do with Jake.

I bumped against an ottoman behind me. I didn’t even realize I’d been backing up. “What the hell are you talking about, Angel? What does Jake have to do with anything?”

He looked disappointed. He clenched his fists, then opened his hands again. Shit, his hands. I looked at them. They looked different, too. I’d seen those hands holding a pencil, flipping through a file, shooting pool, hoisting cold beers, giving my hand a high five. Now, those hands looked
dangerous
.