The Day Will Come (7 page)

“Lenny Spruce!” A little old man trotted over, his hand outstretched.

Lenny took the hand and gave the man a hug with his other arm, dwarfing him. “Dennis, my man, what’s happening?”

“Didn’t get shit for my poker hand, but we got a nice ride in. Sheila’s around here somewhere. You folks gonna get something to eat?”

“That’s the plan. Dennis, this here’s my fiancée, Lucy Lapp. We’re tying the knot this Saturday.”

“My pleasure, my pleasure,” Dennis said, shaking her hand. “You are either a very lucky woman or a very brave one. Maybe both. I can tell just by looking at you that Lenny here’s getting the better part of the deal.”

Lucy laughed, obviously not quite sure how to take the comments.

“And this?” Dennis turned to Tess and gently took her hand.

“Lucy’s daughter, Tess. She just turned nine. And you’ve probably seen Stella around.”

“Sure.” He gripped my hand and smiled. “Oh, here she is. Sheila honey! Look who I found.” After she hugged Lenny Dennis gave the introductions, somehow remembering everyone’s name. “They’re gonna join us for lunch. Right, Len?”

Lenny laughed and looked at Lucy, who nodded her okay.

“Then let’s go eat,” Dennis said. “I’m about starved.”

We’d gotten seated with salads in front of us, Dennis gabbing all the while, when he said, “You folks hear about the Tom Copper concert the other night in Philly?”

“Hear about it?” Lenny said. “We were there.”

“No kiddin’. So were we, weren’t we, honey?”

Sheila smiled, but I had yet to hear her say anything. I guess Dennis talked enough for both of them.

“’Bout lost Sheila here when the grand exodus happened, but I managed to keep a hold of her belt loop. Good thing she was wearing jeans or I’d’a lost her. What do you guys hear about the bomb and the dead body and all?”

Lucy sucked in her breath and Dennis slapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, ma’am, forgot about the little one.”

“I’m not little,” Tess said.

“Of course you’re not,” Dennis said. “But moms protect their kids and don’t like bigmouths like me saying stupid things. I’m right sorry about blurtin’ that out.”

How could Lucy be mad at him after that?

“Anyhoo,” Dennis said, “you folks hear anything?”

“Just that the lady in question was part of the band,” Lenny said. I guess Lucy hadn’t had time to fill him in on Jordan’s involvement, which was fine with me. If Dennis got a hold of that, the entire suburban area would know it by nightfall. “Don’t know nothing about the bomb.”

“Yeah, us either,” Dennis said.

“Do you know much about the band?” I asked. “Like why they switched drummers last year?”

Dennis looked at his wife. “Didn’t we read something about that not too long ago? In a magazine or something?”

“The paper,” Sheila said. I restrained myself from shouting, “She talks!”

“That’s right,” Dennis said. “There was an article in the
Inquirer
last year when they came out with their new album. Last one with the old drummer.
Blue Copper?
Forget what the article said, though. You remember, honey?”

Sheila shook her head.

We leaned back in our seats as our waitress put our main courses in front of us, the smell alone enough to shut up even Dennis as he tucked into his burger. But not for long.

“All I remember is,” Dennis said around a mouthful, “it was his choice. The old drummer, I mean. He left ’cause he wanted to, not ’cause they made him. Burnout, maybe? Not sure how the new guy got in, though.”

“What about the office manager who’s missing?” I asked. “Know anything about that?”

He shook his head. “Probably just took off with the money. Can’t trust anybody these days. Might be he even has ties with the Mafia. You never know anymore.”

And the Mafia did have a big firefight that was putting off Genna’s autopsy. I hadn’t heard that Baronne was one of the casualties, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved. I wondered if Detective Alexander has paused for even a moment in his quest to nab Jordan to consider that possibility.

“Stella and I let the cows out this morning,” Lucy said. Her pointed look at the rest of us made it clear it was time to move on to other subjects. We did.

By the time we were done with dessert, which Dennis insisted on buying for us, it was mid-afternoon. We were standing outside, the guys picking their teeth with toothpicks, when I saw another familiar face.

“Jermaine!” I made my way through the parking lot to where he was standing by his Fat Boy. “Wasn’t expecting to see you out today.”

“What? Because of Jordan?” He rolled his shoulders, loosening them. “I spent all day yesterday and half of last night trying to get in touch with him, not to mention staying up with him all night Friday. I’m sorry for him and all, but he’s gotta make the next move. I can’t put my life on hold forever.” He peeled off his riding gloves and tucked them into a saddlebag. “If I hadn’t gotten called in to work security that night, I wouldn’t know any more than anybody else. And I don’t know much, as it is.”

Join the club.

“What’s the story on your getting brought in to work the concert, anyway?”

He scratched his face, obviously not shaved in the past day or so. “The head of security called in sick at the last minute. Must’ve been pretty bad if he’d do that. One of the other guys had to step up to that job, so they needed another body. Jordan heard somebody talking about it and gave them my name. Since I have some experience and passed their little test, I got the job. Shoulda been an easy gig, since they have such a good security team.”

“I guess you haven’t heard any more about the bomb?”

“Not a word. The cops came around to ask me about stuff, but didn’t tell me anything in return.”

“Sounds familiar. So how’s Ma?”

“Ready to pop. Vernice is over at her place now with Lavina, trying to get her mind off things.”

If anybody could distract Ma, it would be Jermaine’s cute little girl, currently the youngest Granger grandchild.

“Don’t suppose you know anything more about the office manager that disappeared, do you?”

He shook his head. “Like I told you, the only time I talked with him was to sign my contract for the night. After that, I never saw him again. And nobody’s asked me about him. ’Cept you.”

Three guys from our HOG club came up, greeting me. “You about ready for some chow, Granger? We’re going in.”

He looked at me, and I waved. “I gotta get back to my gang, anyway. See you later.”

He left and I found my three at the card table, where Tess’ poker hand was temporarily listed on the board in second place, after a flush.

Tess skipped toward me. “The lady says if I stay in second I’ll get a prize!”

“Cool beans. When will you know?”

“Final rider has to be in in an hour,” Lucy said. “They said they’ll call if we’re not here anymore.”

“You know,” the lady at the table said, winking at Tess, “I can’t imagine there will be anybody else beating you out. And even if they do you should get the prize for being the youngest rider. Why don’t you come on over here and pick a prize from the table?”

Tess looked to Lucy for approval, which of course she gave. We followed her over to the selection.

She took a few minutes looking through the stash, which included a couple of T-shirts, a mug that read
When I die, I’m riding my HOG to heaven
, a stuffed pig with a leather jacket, and a silver cigarette lighter. The prize that caught Tess’ eye, though, was a leather skull cap with
Harley-Davidson
embroidered on the front.

“You’re sure, honey?” Lucy asked, apparently not quite sure herself.

“Can I have it? Pleeeease?”

Lucy studied her for a moment. “All right. If that’s what you want. Need some help putting it on?”

So we rode home, Tess pleased as punch to have her new skull cap flattening her hair under her helmet, and the rest of us weary but pleased to have had such a nice ride. It had been a lovely day.

We pulled into the driveway and rode around the white Chevy truck sitting in front of the house. We parked and turned off the bikes.

“Who’s that?” Lucy asked.

I watched the man sit up in the front seat of the truck, where he’d apparently been taking a nap.

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank God. It’s Jordan.”

Chapter Eight

Lenny took off in a roar, having promised Bart he’d check in at the shop before heading home, and Lucy herded Tess into the house, where she’d get her busy with something before figuring out our after-milking supper. I walked up to Jordan’s truck, where he leaned against the front bumper. Queenie snuffled around my feet, and I reached down to pet her.

“Your family’s worried sick about you,” I said.

Jordan made a face. “I know.”

He looked like hell, his hair greasy, his eyes sunken above dark circles. His skin was pale almost to the color of his truck, and I wondered when he’d last eaten.

I sat beside him, crossing my ankles on the gravel. “Where have you been?”

He leaned forward, his hands pressed against the steel under him. “Here and there.”

I waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. “I heard you hung out at the police station for a while on Friday night.”

“Yeah.”

“Saying Genna was your fiancée.”

He kicked at a stone. “I guess.”

“Is it true?”

His eyes flicked up toward me, but didn’t stay. “Unofficially. But don’t tell Ma.”

“She already knows.”

He lurched off the bumper and took a few steps away, running his hands over his face and through his hair. Lowering his arms, he turned toward me. “What’s she doing?”

“What you’d expect. Trying to get in touch with you. Threatening to head off to Philly to find you herself. You know.”

“Yeah. I know.” He came back to the truck and leaned over it, resting his elbows on the hood. “God, I feel awful.”

“Come on. Let’s get you inside. You need something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Maybe not. But you’re gonna keel over if you don’t put something in your stomach.”

He dropped his face onto his arms, then pushed himself up. “Okay. But you’re not going to make me call Ma, are you?”

I studied him. “Let’s just get you inside and fed. We’ll see what happens next. Deal?”

He nodded, and I got up to turn toward the sidewalk. “Stella?” His voice was quiet.

“Yeah?”

“The band’s having a memorial service tomorrow. For Genna. Will you go with me?”

I looked at him. “You’re sure?”

“Please. I need you.”

He had seven brothers, six of which were in the area. Five sisters-in-law. And Ma. Ma, I could understand not wanting to take to the memorial service for the woman he loved. She was his mother, after all, and he’d want to be treated like an adult, not a protected child. But why not the others?

“I take it no one else in your family knows the truth about you and Genna?”

“Not from me. Well, except for Jermaine.”

“And in the band?”

He laughed, but it was a sad sound. “Everyone in the band knows about me and Genna, in some way. At least they think they do. But everyone also thinks she’s still…she
was
Ricky’s girlfriend.”

I winced. “What did she ever see in him, anyway?” But I knew. That bad boy, good body, rock-and-roll star thing was what she saw. It took her a while to see the good boy, ordinarily handsome, blue-collar guy standing in front of me.

“Don’t ask me that,” Jordan said.

We walked side by side up the walk, Queenie trotting along behind.

“So where have you been?” I asked again. “Other than the police station?”

He blew his bangs off his forehead. “Outside the club, in my truck, stopped off at my place for a while.”

“Didn’t think to check your answering machine? Or your cell?”

“Didn’t want to. I knew what would be on them.”

His family, wanting to make sure he was okay. Maybe Ricky. But not the only person he truly
wanted
to hear from.

I stopped, my hand on the door handle. “Do they know yet how it happened?”

He breathed through his nose. “No. Can you believe they’re doing some gangsters first? The freaking Mafia?”

“I heard.” I pushed open the door and led him inside.

Lucy came out from the kitchen. “Hey, Jordan.”

He swallowed. “Hey, Lucy. Just so you know, the band’s still planning to play your wedding on Saturday. They’ll honor the contract. And I’ll do the sound at the church.”

“I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you.” But I saw the relief in her eyes.

“He needs food,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, “he does.”

I sat him in one of the kitchen chairs, and Lucy put a glass of orange juice in front of him.

“Drink,” she said.

He took a sip.

“Now finish that while I make you a sandwich.”

He took another swallow. “Yes, ma’am.”

I leaned against the counter and watched Lucy layer turkey, cheese, and lettuce on some of her oatmeal bread. It looked good, but I was still stuffed from our late lunch.

It took Jordan a minute to get going on the sandwich, but once he started I’d lay bets he set a record in speed eating.

“Another one?” Lucy asked.

“Better not,” he said.

I glanced at a Tupperware container on the counter. “How about some of your brownies, Luce?”

She grabbed the box and tossed it beside Jordan. “All yours.”

He didn’t say no. Along with the glass of milk Lucy poured him, he finished off the entire batch.

“You know the cops are interested in you,” I said when he’d finished.

Jordan jerked his chin up. “In
me
?
What for?”

“For everything. The bomb, Genna…”

“Genna?”
His face went back to its pre-meal color, and I was afraid I’d shared the news too quickly.

“They say someone heard you arguing before the concert. They’re making it seem like a big deal.”

He looked across the room, toward the feed store calendar hanging above the phone.

“Jordan? Is it true?”

“We…talked. Maybe it got a little loud. But I didn’t think anyone heard us.”

“What were you talking about?”

He snapped his head toward me, and Lucy glared at me from across the kitchen.

“I’m not trying to be nosy, Jordan,” I said. “Really. But could someone have heard something important?”

He picked up his glass, drained the last few drops of milk, and set it back down. “It was important to me. To us. But not anyone else’s business.” He stood up and pushed his chair in. “Thank you for the food, Lucy. I do feel better.”

“You’re welcome.” She put a hand on his arm, then took his plate and glass to the counter.

I got up. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Whatever.”

Queenie met us on the sidewalk, and Jordan absently let his hand fall onto her head. She licked his fingers, and he jumped, as if surprised to remember where he was.

“You going home?” I asked him.

He sighed. “I guess.”

“You’ll let your family know you’re okay?”

“I’ll let them know I’m back. I’m not sure I’m okay.”

I watched his hunched shoulders as he turned toward his truck. “Want me to drive to the memorial service tomorrow?” I asked.

He stopped. “Sure.”

“What time should I pick you up?”

He stared at the barn so long I thought he’d forgotten what I’d asked. “Eleven-ish?” he finally said.

“I’ll be there. At your house. Oh, and Jordan?”

“Yeah?”

“Call a lawyer. The cops are going to find you, and they’re not going to be sympathetic.”

He bit his lips together. “I didn’t
do
anything.”

“I know that.”

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, blowing out a gush of air. “Fine. Any suggestions?”

“Actually, yes. Hang on.”

I trotted to my office and scribbled the number of David Crockett, a lawyer I’d met at a HOG event last summer. He’d already helped Lenny out of a jam, and I was sure he’d be able to help now.

I jogged back outside and handed the paper to Jordan. “Don’t talk to the cops without him.”

He took the paper, and without another word got into his truck and drove away.