The Inn(32)

“What I’m trying to tell you is that if you get rid of Cline, you’ll leave maybe hundreds of people lost in very dark, turbulent seas,” he said. “We’re lucky. We have a rehabilitation center in Gloucester, which is more than I can say for much of New England. But they’ll get overloaded. People will be turned away. They’ll get desperate. They’ll rob the local pharmacies, try to cook the stuff themselves, start hunting one another for what little supply is left.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to tell me not to go after this guy at all,” I said.

The doctor sighed, took the heavy book from under his arm, and held it in his hands.

“This is not like you,” I told him. “I’ve been in your room, Doc. I’ve seen all those certificates on your wall. Last Christmas, every second letter through the slot was a card for you from some old patient. You’re not the guy who says ‘Live and let live’ for scumbags like Cline.”

“I just want you to consider the fact that there are thousands of guys like Cline out there,” Doc said. “It won’t make any difference if you bring this guy down.”

“It’ll make a difference to me,” I said.

The doc shrugged and wandered off, still holding the enormous book in his hands. I checked my watch, wondering where Marni was. She hadn’t answered my last text, so I sent another. Susan had taken the sauce off the heat and was laying sheets of lasagna in a baking tray. I went to her and dared, in the warmth of the wine and the strange new calm the doctor’s words had brought down on me, to reach out and touch her arm.

“Thanks for this,” I said. “Marni’s going to love it, wherever the hell she is.”

“I’m sure she’s on the way.” Susan put her hand on mine. “She’ll be back before you set the table. You’ll see.”

I picked up a handful of cutlery and a stack of napkins.

The gunshots started just as I opened the dining-room door.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR





THE BULLETS TORE through the room, punching holes in the weatherboard exterior, ripping and splintering the walls and shattering the windows. I dropped to the floor with no idea where the shots were coming from. A cabinet beside me seemed to explode, peppering the table with shards of glass. In the chaos, I saw Angelica at the end of the dining-room table holding a thick pile of papers that disappeared in a cloud of white from under her hands.

The drive-by shooting took only seconds; the house was blasted with noise and destruction for less than a minute before the car outside skidded on the gravel and sped away. But it felt like much longer as I cowered on the floor, my face in the carpet, listening to the screams of my friends.

Their voices rose at once, a confused wailing.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Help!”

“What happened?”

“Is everyone all right?”

Susan burst through the door beside me and ran through the room to the front of the house. I followed. The car was gone. We grabbed at each other; her nails bit into my arms and shoulders.

“Are you—”

“Are you okay? I’m okay!”

“I’m okay.” Susan ran her hands over herself, gripped her hair. “Jesus!”

Nick and Effie were bent over Angelica on the floor. The author was clutching her upper arm as blood ran between her fingers. Pieces of her exploded manuscript marked with slashes of a red pen were in her hair. Susan dashed to the medicine cabinet. Doc Simeon hadn’t decided the coast was clear yet and remained under the table, his eyes huge and his mouth downturned.

“How bad is it?” I went to Angelica.

“I’ve been shot,” she said, her voice more wonder than surprise. “Can anyone believe it? Someone shot me. Someone shot me! In my own home!”

I heard a groaning on the porch and ran out there to find Vinny slumped sideways in his wheelchair. A bullet had shattered the hub of the left wheel, collapsing the wheelchair to one side. I grabbed the ancient gangster under the arms and lifted him onto the bench on the porch.

“Motherfuckers!” he howled, shoving me off as I set him on the bench. “You know, I came here hoping I’d been shot at from a moving vehicle for the last fucking time, Robinson.”

“I’m sorry,” I said for some reason.

“All those guys inside okay?”

“Angelica got hit in the arm.” I couldn’t catch my breath. I saw the blood on him, fell to my knees, and lifted his thin, useless leg. “Looks like you got one too.”

Vinny pulled his tattered trouser leg tight, revealing two bullet holes. “Fuck!”

The fury was descending on me fast, falling on me like a red-hot cloak, tightening around my neck. I found myself grinding my teeth and staring helplessly at the road between the trees, daring them to return. “You see anything, Vinny? You see the car?”

“Black Escalade,” Vinny and I said at the same time.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE





SUSAN AND I put Angelica and Vinny in the car to take them to the hospital, and Nick decided he wanted to come along too, so I was relegated to the back seat to make room for his long legs. Then, before I could close the car door, Effie slipped onto my lap, leaving only Doc and Neddy Ives to guard the house. I tried to protest over the sound of Angelica’s wailing, but it seemed the journey would be a family affair.