Whistling in the Dark (32 page)

"And what are you going to tell him when he asks why you didn't report this a whole lot sooner?"

Sutton didn't have an answer. Jack slipped an arm under his and found his hand with a reassuring grip. "You're not the villain, Sutton, so quit looking like that."

Theo chatted with Kent for an interminable time and when they finally left the automat together, Jack got up. "Stay here. And don't worry. We've done this before."

Sutton had no desire to face Kent ever again, but staying in the clean, bright comfort of the automat while Jack and Theo went into battle for him was no alternative. He left after them and finding no one in the street, heard a commotion around the corner and started down the sidewalk at a run. In the wind-swept alley, Theo had his gun trained on Kent and his accomplices while Jack searched Kent's pockets. Kent stood silent but wary. His gaze found Sutton and contempt followed recognition. Sutton knew when they let him go, Kent would find someone as lonely and foolish as Sutton had been--and the beating the poor fellow faced would be worse because of this.

Sutton hadn't hated anyone in the war, except perhaps the men who had started it. He'd hated the students who had seen him with David and reported him--but not even their contempt and their taunts had stirred him to shove anyone into a wall. He hadn't pressed an arm into anyone's throat to hold him against his will, hadn't felt muscles clench with a driving desire to pound a supercilious smile into a grimace of pain.

Jack's hand settled high on his shoulder, a thumb above his shirt collar brushing against his burning skin. "How much did the son of a bitch take?"

Jack said it casually, as if it didn't surprise him that Sutton had yanked Kent out of his grasp and shoved him into the wall. "Four dollars," Sutton said, fixed relentlessly on Kent's watchful gaze. He wanted to see uncertainty or fear--or regret. He wanted Kent to feel the vulnerability he'd felt, and understand he was just as breakable.

"Four dollars? He's got a lot more than that." Jack eased the cash out and tucked part of it into Sutton's pocket, along with the wallet. He tossed the remaining cash on the ground. "What do you want to do with him?"

"Oh, do let's have some fun," Theo said and waved the gun at Kent's accomplices. "How about you fellows? Care to play?"

Sutton, shocked, stole a glance around. The two men edged away, ready to break and run despite the gun in Theo's grip. Theo laughed. "Go on and go, then. But you'd better run quick because I might just decide to see how well I can hit moving targets in the dark."

It was all the invitation they needed. Kent shouted after them and tried to push Sutton away. Sutton pushed back. "You're not going with them. You're not going to do to anyone else what you did to me."

Kent hardly seemed to hear him, but flinched as Theo came near. "You leave me alone."

Theo chuckled. "Heard the stories about this one," he said conversationally to Sutton and Jack. "Nasty bit of work. Quite the reputation. Up until tonight."

"Don't try it," Kent rasped, beads of perspiration on suddenly pale skin. "I'll kill you, I swear to God."

"Don't flatter yourself," Theo said. "I do have some standards. However, I'm sure your friends don't think so."

"I wouldn't go hunting them up," Jack agreed, "unless you want them to put you in the hospital next time."

"Hospital or morgue?" Theo rested the muzzle just above Kent's ear. "You never know when a fellow's left for dead if he's going to pull through, do you?"

Jack gingerly took the gun from Theo's hand and put it in Sutton's. The cold weight was a half-forgotten feel Sutton hadn't wanted to reacquaint himself with ever again. Jack and Theo stepped back, leaving Kent's miserable life in his hands. But it was no easier, as much as he despised Kent, and he supposed he should be glad for that.

He lowered the gun to his side, metal slick in his shaking grip. He felt Jack's touch again, briefly comforting against his neck, before Jack took the gun from his hand.

"I guess it's left to me." Jack waved the gun at Kent. "Down on the ground. Hands and knees."

"Go to hell," Kent said, then sucked in a breath as Jack shoved the muzzle against his throat.

"This thing noisy when it goes off?" Jack asked.

"Kent or the gun?" Theo inquired.

Jack hooked a leg around Kent's, knocked him to the ground and slammed the gun butt against his skull. "Guess I didn't want to do it, either."

Theo took the gun back. "Some people are so squeamish about trying anything new. And he might've come to like it," he added with a wink at Sutton.

"We can't let him go," Sutton said. "He'll rob someone else, his first chance."

"The theater crowd will be down in a minute," Theo said cheerfully. "Morrison Bower's a photographer, always has his camera along. We'll take some snaps and post dear Kent's photo all around. He'll have to move to Florida to find any peace." He put an arm around Sutton. "Don't worry, my dear. We shall be ever on the look-out. "

Sutton believed him. "Thank you, Theo."

Theo kissed his forehead and let him go. Sutton, watchful despite his weariness, heard Jack whisper to Theo, "I'm taking Sutton home. Thanks for the--you know."

Sutton exhaled and the knots that had twisted up his insides loosened, letting him breathe and drift. It reassured him to know that if he couldn't count on the orthodox protection provided the rest of the world, he had unorthodox protection coming through for him in a pinch.

Jack guided him back to a quiet apartment and a hot cup of cocoa. But the best was bed, which Jack hastily put in order before crawling in beside him to plaster him with warm skin and teasing comments he barely registered.

"Jack, you've got to sleep."

"After all that excitement? You should've made me stay home."

Sutton put an arm around him. "It's going to be all right. We'll find a way to make it all right."

"It's pretty all right for the moment," Jack said, sleepiness creeping into his voice. "You know, I thought you were going to kill him."

"I couldn't--"

"No, I knew you wouldn't shoot him. But before that, when you flew by and knocked him into the wall--I thought you might strangle the life out of him. Never saw you like that before. Coiled tighter than a phonograph spring."

"Haven't seen myself like that," Sutton said. "Maybe it was France."

"New York. Or maybe me."

"Not you. Remember where we first ran into each other."

"So you were rotten to the core before we met."

"Thoroughly."

"Thought so."

A contented smile lingered on Jack's lips and Sutton wanted to say something more. Instead, he fell asleep with it nestled in his thoughts.

- Thirty-Seven-

Harry must have known what it had taken Sutton a while to discover. He didn't come by until three in the afternoon and finding only Sutton out of bed, proceeded to the bedroom with grim determination. Worried, Sutton followed, only to find Harry sitting quietly on the edge of the mattress, one hand resting on Jack's shoulder. Jack was awake and, before Sutton could leave them to their conversation, Harry motioned him in. "Mrs. Madigan has a supper engagement at seven. She's agreed to see us at four, so scrub up into something halfway presentable--" He brushed a hand over Jack's hair, "and we'll leave in thirty minutes."

"What are you going to be doing?" Jack asked with a yawn.

"I'm going back down to look through those boxes in the storeroom, see if I can find any written agreements between Mr. Madigan and your dad."

"Haven't you searched those a dozen times now?"

"At least." Harry got up. "Thirty minutes," he emphasized as he went out.

Sutton, wondering how he could move Jack along that quickly, was astonished when Jack lurched past him and vanished into the bathroom. Jack seemed a coiled spring by the time they joined Harry at the curb and climbed into a cab. When the Plaza loomed palatially, Harry and Jack exchanged a look of glum commiseration and Sutton gave up trying to reassure either of them. At the front desk, they met Mrs. Madigan's lawyer, Mr. Barchis--thin, white-haired, with spectacles perched at the tip of his nose--who had waited to tell them Mrs. Madigan had not returned from a social call and they would have to reschedule.

"Reschedule?" Jack stared at him. "We're about to be booted out of home and business and you want us to come back another time?"

"Any chance she'll be in at all tonight?" Harry asked. "We'll wait as long as necessary."

Mr. Barchis glanced over the rim of his spectacles. "You can wait, but I cannot guarantee you'll be able to meet with Mrs. Madigan this evening."

"Even if she has only five minutes free," Harry said. "I'm sorry about barging in on a Sunday, but this is urgent."

Mr. Barchis eyed Jack, who appeared ready to tell him just how urgent--and no doubt would have, but for Harry's firm grip on his arm. As Mr. Barchis stalked away, Jack scowled after him. "He's not going to tell her a damned thing."

"Maybe. Let's give him a chance, all right? Damn, I wish I knew what she looked like. We could corral her before she ever goes upstairs."

"We can't pounce on every middle-aged woman who comes through the lobby--can we?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You two sit. I want to talk to Barchis another minute."

Sutton knew Harry wanted to talk to Mr. Barchis without Jack hovering over his shoulder. He scouted out a sofa shaded from the afternoon sun by potted palms, there to wait with a restless Jack and watch the passing parade.

"Hear that?" Jack threw a glance toward a windowed enclosure and the door that had been left open. "Someone's wiring a request for funds. Says he had no idea New York was so expensive."

"Certainly if one stays at the Plaza." Sutton leaned toward him. "Aren't we eavesdropping?"

Jack shrugged. "I can't help it."

"I'll remember that, the next time I send a telegram."

"I'd never spill your secrets. Unless they're really juicy ones. Oh, there's Harry. And there he goes," Jack said with a laugh.

"I'll catch him."

Sutton did, only to hear that Mr. Barchis would not share the details of Mrs. Madigan's meeting with Ned. "Barchis thinks we want to complain to her about the rent. That we're upset because we lost the sweet deal we had," Harry said. "Guess it's only natural, but I sure as hell don't like being taken for a deadbeat."

"Mr. Barchis appears a suspicious type," Sutton said. "And Jack did put the idea in his head."

Harry sighed. "We've got to calm him down before we head home. Especially if we don't get a chance to talk to Mrs. Madigan. If Ned's waiting for us, neither you nor me nor half a dozen wild horses will keep Jack from busting him right in the nose." Harry stopped walking. "Where is he?"

"He's right over--" Sutton turned, to see the sofa had been claimed by a plump woman and her restless brood. "He must've given them the seat. He can't have gone far--"

"Ah, hell. Look around, see if he's cornered any defenseless females. Words I never thought I'd utter in respect to Jackie," Harry said with a snort.

Sutton tried to pretend he hadn't heard the comment, but his face gave him away, judging by Harry's soft chuckle. "Sorry, kid. I guess I ought to be used to it. Hell, I saw it in the army plenty--" He cleared his throat. "Look, I'm just glad Jack's not so lonesome as he was when he got back from France. That he's got someone to--hell, you know what I mean."

"I do." Despite his discomfort, Sutton was heartened to know how Harry felt.

Harry nodded. "Good. Ain't never seen him so gone on anyone before," he added as he turned away. That off-hand information sank in along with a rush of gladness--which faded when Sutton saw the crowd gathering in the center of the lobby.

"Harry," he whispered as he started forward, anxiety increasing with every step. A wrought iron table bearing an urn plentiful with roses occupied the space beneath a glittering chandelier. Under the table, his arms wrapped partway around the curlicued base, huddled Jack.

"Damn." Harry started down to his knees, but Sutton stopped him.

"Let me."

Harry hesitated for a bare instant. "Yeah, go on. He trusts you."

Glad to know Jack wasn't the only one, Sutton ducked under the table and crept close enough to whisper. "Jack?"

Jack stayed quiet, gazing out across the busy lobby. Sutton laid his hand over the hand Jack still had wrapped around the wrought iron. Jack's skin was cool under his touch, but the white-knuckled grip relaxed as Sutton gave his fingers the gentlest squeeze. "I think you could use a cup of coffee. And we've got up some bacon and eggs and fresh bread. Come back and I'll let you have every crumb of it."

"Damn," Jack whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Are you all right?"

Jack took in the immediate surroundings with increasing anguish. "God--I messed it up."

Sutton motioned to Harry to shoo away the onlookers. "You haven't messed up anything. It's perfectly all right." He could say it with conviction, because he didn't intend to let it be otherwise. "We'll just tell them--" He grasped a button on his coat and gave it a sharp twist and pull. "We'll tell them I lost a button and you were hunting it down for me." The thread snapped and Sutton tucked the button into Jack's hand. "I'll be right with you, every step. Ready?"

Jack stared at the button as if he hadn't quite followed the conversation. He closed his fingers over it, still dazed--or perhaps surprised--but he nodded and let Sutton take his arm. Harry had herded the crowd a respectful distance away, but was back to slip a hand under Jack's elbow as Sutton guided him from under the table. He began to button Jack's coat. "You okay?"

Jack caught his arm, still seeming anxious. "I'm sorry–"

"Nothing to be sorry about." Harry clapped his shoulder. "Save the apologies for Sutton after you've deprived him of another good night's sleep. Why don't you two get some supper? I'll wait for Mrs. Madigan to show--"