Page 42 of Circle of Death
CHAPTER 51
IT’S NOT MUCH of a wake. I don’t even have a photo of Moe to display. But Jessica filled the whole parlor with candles, which makes it feel kind of like a chapel. Moe wasn’t religious. In fact, he probably would have called the whole thing silly. But we had to do something.
Margo is sitting across from me in a high-backed chair. Her eyes are red. “It’s amazing how alike they were,” she says.
“Who?” asks Jericho.
“Moe and his ancestor.”
“Those Shrevnitz genes were strong,” says Burbank from his seat in the corner.
He’s right. I think back to the original Moe Shrevnitz—the New York cabbie who became my confidant, my spy, and my escape driver back in the 1930s. I can’t even count how many times he got me out of a jam or helped me crack a case. Moe could be crusty at times, but he had street smarts like nobody else. And I always knew he’d take a bullet for me, if it came to that.
The Moe we just lost was exactly the same. I know how proud he was to be on the team. And I know how much he adored Maddy. In just one week, they’d built a special connection. Everybody saw it. Across the room, Maddy is curled on the sofa, her head buried in Jessica’s lap.
I have no doubt that the bomber who blew up Moe’s car was the same one who tried to blow up the building during Diaz’s speech. It was a message. If they can get to one of us, they can get to any of us.
I uncork a bottle of brandy and fill seven snifters. I pass the glasses around the room and set the last one on the mantel.
I raise my glass. “To Moe.”
“To life,” says Margo.
“To the team,” says Jericho.
Maddy stands up from the sofa and pushes her hair back from her face. She downs her drink in one gulp.
“To revenge,” she says.
CHAPTER 52
AT 1:00 A.M., Margo and I are the only ones still up. The fifth of brandy is almost drained, and the two of us are the main culprits.
“So what happens now?” Margo asks, leaning back in her chair. She knows the answer. She just needs to hear it from me, out loud.
I swirl what’s left of my brandy in the bottom of the glass. “What happens now is, we go on. We find out who’s behind all this damage, and we eliminate them. Same for the killer at the World’s Fair. We do it all for Moe.”
Margo nods quietly, then reaches for my hand. She fights a yawn, but the yawn wins. “Lamont, I’m sleepy.”
I put down my snifter and push myself up out of my seat. “Me, too. Half a bottle of Rémy Martin will do it every time.” I help Margo up from her chair and we head upstairs with our arms wrapped around each other. Margo’s leg wobbles on the second step. Neither of us is too steady at the moment. She gives me a little smile and grabs me tighter.
“If I go down, you’re coming with me,” she says.
“Joined at the hip,” I tell her. “Forever.”
We make it to the top of the staircase and head down the hallway. Everybody else has been tucked away for hours. As we pass Maddy’s room, Margo tugs on my shoulder. When we stop, I hear it.
Sobbing.
Maybe we should just leave her alone, I think. Let her feel what she’s feeling, give her some space to grieve. But Margo already has her hand on the doorknob. No way she’s not going in. She pushes the door open slowly. I follow her.
In the slice of light from the hallway, I can see Maddy hunched under the covers. Margo reaches out and rests one hand gently on her shoulder. Maddy flinches and rolls toward us, barely awake, her cheeks glistening with tears.
Margo sits on the bed and slips off her shoes. Maddy sits up slowly and wraps her arms around Margo’s neck.
“I could have saved him,” Maddy sobs. “If I’d been there, nobody would have gotten near that car.Nobody!”
Margo cradles Maddy’s head against her chest.
