Getting Rid of Bradley (3 page)

cop who’s tried to nail him in the last nine months. And the million and a half he’s traveling on is not

chicken feed. But I need more than just one of your instincts to keep me in this dive any longer.”

Zack slapped the table and then drummed his fingers again. “Look, we got an honest-to-God phone tip

that he’d be here, and it’s the best thing we’ve got so far. It’s not like we have anything else on this thing.

It’s not like—”

“Zack,” Anthony interrupted him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“What? Oh. The fingers?” Zack stopped drumming on the table. “Sorry.”

“No, not the fingers. Although that’s got to stop, too. No, it’s the way you’ve been acting lately.”

Anthony shook his head slowly. “That was a bad moment today with Jerry. I thought you were really

going to kick him.”

“Me? Naw.” Zack paused. “Probably not.”

“Exactly.” Anthony nailed him with a frown. “That’s what I’m talking about. The ‘probably’ part. And all

this rambling about quitting. I don’t like it You’ve always been nuts. That’s fine. I can deal with nuts. But

lately, you’ve been depressed nuts. I can’t deal with that.”

“I’m not depressed.” Zack picked up a package of sugar, tore it savagely across the middle, and

dumped it in his coffee. “I’m notelated right now, but I’m not depressed.”

“You just decapitated a sugar packet. That should tell you something.”

Zack stared at the mutilated packet and then tossed it on the table. “I’ll tell you something. I was really

disappointed in old Jerry today. I mean, I felt sorry for the poor sap, and then he pulled a gun on us, and

I thought damn, nobody’s decent anymore. And then he shot at us, and I was really mad.” Zack shook

his head. “Sometimes I think there aren’t any decent people in the world anymore.” He tasted his coffee

and frowned. “So maybe the job’s getting me down a little, but I’m not depressed.”

“You are depressed.” Anthony spoke clearly and calmly, as if he were speaking to the mentally ill. “And

your depression is affecting our work. I know what’s wrong.”

Zack glared at him. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it that you were a psych minor? A minor,

for cripes’ sake. With a minor, you’re not even allowed to psychoanalyze dogs.”

“It’s because you’re worried about getting older. It started when you turned thirty-six.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Zack turned his attention back to the restaurant. “Do those two women

look guilty to you? There’s something strange about the blonde. I think it’s her hair. That hair is not real.”

“Ever since your birthday, you’ve been snarling at the younger men on the force. And I have shoes older

than the women you’ve been dating.” Anthony shook his head. “You are really transparent on this one.”

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Zack scowled at him. “It’s not age. Hell, you’re the same age I am.”

“Yes, but I’m not depressed about it.”

“Well, you should be.” Zack fiddled with his spoon, spattering the scarred tabletop with flecks of coffee.

“Remember Falk, the old guy I started out on patrol with? There’s a kid on patrol with him right now.... I

was inhigh school when he was born. He lived down the block from me.”

“Zack, you’re thirty-six. These things happen. So there are people who are younger than you are. Deal

with it.”

“I’m not as fast as I used to be, either.” Zack dropped his voice. “When we play one on one? I’m

slowing down. A lot.”

“This is all in your mind. I haven’t noticed you getting any slower.”

“That’s because you’re getting slower, too.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “Do you mind if we keep this your depression? Personally, I am getting

better, not older.”

“You’re getting older. But you don’t care because you’ve always been the brains. Brains don’t age.”

“Oh, fine. And that makes you what? The brawn?” Anthony leaned back and folded his arms. “I can

take you anytime, turkey.”

“No, I’m the instinct. Lightning-fast instinct.” Zack sent his eyes around the diner again before he turned

back to Anthony. “But lately, I’m losing it. When we were chasing that guy on the fortieth floor

yesterday? The one on the roof? For a minute, just for a minute, I thought, ‘This is nuts. I’m going to fall

off a roof because somebody just boosted somebody else’s camcorder. It’s not worth it.’ And then

today with Jerry? I kept looking at that damn desk, thinking, ‘That’s going to hurt when I have to go over

it’ I kept hoping he’d surrender so I wouldn’t have to go over that damn desk. I tell you, I’m losing it.”

“Look, lightning, you are not getting slower, you are not losing your instincts, and you are not going to

die. You are just growing up. And, may I add, not a moment too soon.”

“I’m serious—”

“So am I.” Anthony pointed his finger at Zack, and Zack shut up. “You have been going ninety miles an

hour ever since I met you eighteen years ago. I used to watch you and think, ‘How does he do that?’ and

marvel. Then I grew up, and now I watch you and think, ‘Wry does he do that?’ You have nothing to

prove to anybody, and you’re still acting like some hotshot TV cop.” Anthony leaned forward. “Not

chasing the camcorder off the roof was good. It was a sign of maturity.”

“Don’t say that word,” Zack said. “Maturity means death.”

“It does not. What’s wrong with you?”

Zack started drumming his fingers again. “I don’t know. Sometimes... You know, my brothers are all

married. They’ve got wives, they’ve got kids, they’ve got big houses, they’ve got responsibilities.” He

scowled at Anthony. “It’s like they’re living death.”

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“I’ve met your family. They’re happy. What are you talking about?”

“Responsibility,” Zack said. “Maturity. The minute I stopped chasing that camcorder, death said hello.”

Anthony started to laugh. “I don’t believe this. You’ve always been a flake, but this, this is new. You

know what you need?”

“Nothing. I need nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to settle down. Look, you used to live for this job, but it’s not enough anymore. That’s good.

But you look at your brothers, and you want what they’ve got, and it scares you, so you become

depressed instead. That’s bad. Face it. Maturity is not death. It’s just the next step in life. Most people

encounter it sooner than you did, but you’ll do fine.” Anthony sipped his coffee. “You will have to change

the kind of women you date, though.”

“What’s wrong with the kind of women I date?”

“They’re younger than your car, they carry knives, and they ride motorcycles naked on I-75.”

“Well, they beat those plastic Yuppies you hang out with. What’s the latest one’s name? Cheryl?

Please.” Zack rolled his eyes.

“Cheryl has many fine qualities,” Anthony said without much enthusiasm.

“Name one.”

“She can read. Have you ever dated anyone literate?”

“Look, I don’t want to date anybody right now.”

“You’re not dating?” Anthony frowned at him. “There are no women in your life?”

“I’m resting.” Zack leaned back in the booth and tapped his fingers on the cracked upholstery. “I’m

concentrating on my career.”

“Oh, good for you. So how long has it been since you... dated?”

“New Year’s Eve.”

I Anthony shook his head. “That’s two months. That alone could make you depressed.”

“I’m not that depressed.” Zack’s tapping picked up speed. “Could we get off this please?”

“All right, you’re not ready for a wife. Start small. Get a dog.”

“A dog? A dog?” Zack slapped the table. “A dog. That’s all I need is some dopey dog with big sad

eyes telepathically telling me he never sees me and where have I been?”

“Zack...”

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“Besides, I had a dog once. I got him when I was three.”

“Zack...”

“I went away to college and he died. Dogs are a responsibility. You can’t leave them.”

“You went away to college.” Anthony cast an imploring look at the ceiling. “I don’t believe this. Zack, if

you got him when you were three, he was fifteen by the time you went to college. That’s 105 in dog

years. He died because he was old, not because you went to college.”

Zack wasn’t listening. “You start taking responsibility for things, they worry you. I don’t need that.

Worry slows you down. You start to second-guess everything. And then, pretty soon, the instincts go.

That’s why I hang out with you. Nothing ever happens to you.”

“Thank you,” Anthony said. “I think. All right, a dog is not a good idea, but maybe—”

“Look, could we get back to work here? This conversation is really depressing me.”

“Fine. But think about what I said.” Zack scowled at him and Anthony held up his hand. “All right, hack

to work. Now, which one of those two women over there does your sixth sense tell you is John Bradley,

embezzler?” He studied them. “The hot brunette has a mean look to her, but I suppose the blonde’s a

possible, too.”

“You don’t think the blonde’s hot?” Zack shook his head. “You have no taste in women. The hair’s a

little weird, but the face is good, and the body is excellent.”

“How do you know? They’re sitting down.”

“She went to the counter to get another fork. I may be getting older, but I’m not dead yet. The blonde

would definitely be worth some time.” Zack squinted over at her. “You know, I think she’s been looking

at me.”

“Right.”

“Hey. Women look at me. It happens.”

“Well, at least you’re not depressed anymore.” Anthony checked his watch. “We’ve wasted an hour

here for nothing. Would you like to arrest the blonde so you can pat her down, or shall we just leave?”

“Fine. Make fun.” Zack shoved his coffee away and tossed some coins on the table as a tip. “But I’m

telling you right now, there’s something here that would have helped us break this Bradley case. And

now we’ll never know.”

“I can live with that,” Anthony said.

“That’s because you have no instincts,” Zack said.

“Okay,” Tina said as Lucy finished her salad. “Let’s concentrate on the basics—getting your new life

started.”

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“Let’s not,” Lucy said.

“First of all, you’ve got to get rid of anything of Bradley’s that’s left. Then we’ve got to change your hair.

And then I’ll fix you up with some presentable men I know. Everyone I know has money, so at least

you’ll be eating in decent restaurants. Not like this dump.”

“Tina,” Lucy said. “No dating. I will fix my hair because it looks awful, but no dating.”

“What about Bradley’s papers? I think you should throw whatever he left out on the lawn. Or better yet,

burn it and dance around the flames.”

“Tina, that’s ridiculous. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“No, I’m not. Psychologically, this is a very big deal. Get rid of his things and you’ll get rid of him.”

“I am rid of him,” Lucy protested. “I just want to talk to him so I know what happened. I don’t want him

back.”

“Good Remember that.” Tina stood and took herblack silk trench coat from the rack at the end of the

booth. Then she handed Lucy her bright blue quilted-cotton jacket and bag. “What have you got in that

bag? It weighs a ton.”

“My physics book, remember? I brought it so if the divorce got boring, I could review. And sure

enough...” Tina closed her eyes. “I have to save you. This is too painful.” She jabbed her finger at Lucy.

“You go home and start throwing Bradley out. I’ll make an appointment for your hair tomorrow.”

“Tina. No. If I want my hair done, I will do it.”

“I know this wonderful woman on Court Street....”

“No.”

Tinastopped. “All right. But at least get rid of Bradley.”

“Maybe.” Lucy took a deep breath, full of independence. “Maybe.”

“Damn it. I was sure there’d be something about Bradley here.” Zack stood.

“Your blonde’s leaving,” Anthony said and they both turned to watch.

They were splitting up, the brunette heading for the back door to the parking lot, the blonde to the street

door. Just before she got to the door, the brunette turned.

“Lucy,” she called, and it sounded like an order. “I mean it. As soon as you get home.”

“All right, all right,” the blonde said. “As soon as I get home, I will get rid of Bradley.” Then she turned

and walked out the door.

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“Instinct,” Zack said and took off after her.

“I hate it when you do this,” Anthony said, and moved toward the parking-lot door tostop the brunette.

Chapter Two

contents-previous |next

The February wind cut at Lucy’s face as she set off at a dead run to find her car, her purse banging

heavily into her hip. She’d almost reached the alley next to the lot when somebody grabbed her arm, and

she swung around and fell against the brick wall of the building behind her.

It was the black leather from the restaurant. “Excuse me?” he said. “We need to talk.” He blocked her

against the wall and reached inside his beat-up leather jacket. “I’m—”

“No.” Lucy shook her head until the street blurred. “I’m very busy. Really. You probably noticed me

staring at you? That was a mistake. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She tried to slip away, but he caught at her

arm again.

“I have to ask you about Bradley,” he said, and Lucy stopped pulling away. “I’m—”

“Bradley? Oh, you mean with my sister back there? Getting rid of him? That was a joke.”

He smiled down at her, and Lucy lost her breath. He was too intense to be handsome and too electric to

be ignored. “I love jokes,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

I’d tell you anything,Lucy thought, and then she heard a sound like a car backfiring. There was a pinging

sound and a chip of the brick wall behind them struck her on the cheek and the man swore and yanked

her into the alley. He shoved her behind a trash bin and pinned her to the metal with his body, so close to

her that her heart thudded against his chest. He was solid and a lot stronger than she was, and she tried

to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

“What are you doing?” Lucy tried to push him off. “Let go.”

“Quiet.”

He eased himself off her slightly, reached inside his jacket, pulled out a gun, and aimed it carefully at the

street.

Lucy froze, part of her mind marvelling at seeing a real gun in the hand of a real felon, the rest of her

mind in meltdown.Move, she told her feet, but she stayed frozen against him. She shoved her chin up his

chest to get a better look at him, trying to decide whether he was just run-of-the-mill violent or totally

deranged.

He looked big and tense and concentrated. His anvil-like jaw was clenched and his crazy blue eyes

swept up and down the street.

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Totally deranged.

She shifted again, and he whispered without looking at her, “Would you hold still, please?”

Please? At least he was polite.

She tried to shove him off her, but he weighed a ton, so she decided to fall back on her former strong

suit: brains. “You’re squashing me,” she said, trying to breath around his jacket, and he eased off her a

little more, just enough to give her room to lunge for the street He caught her by the coat before she

could take another step, yanking her back and yelling, “Are you crazy?”

“Me?” Lucy yelled back, trying to jerk her coat away. “What about you? Grabbing women? Let me

go.”

“Listen, lady,” He tried to push her back behind the Dumpster. “I’m...”

“Let go!”She swung her purse filled with five pounds of physics book and connected with his solar

plexus.

His gasp was an inverted scream, and his grip tightened on her convulsively. She jerked away again, and

her shoulder bag swung up hard into his face, catching him solidly on the mouth and neatly splitting his lip.

His head jerked up, and then Lucy slugged him along the temple, this time on purpose, not even wincing

as his head made athock sound when her book-filled bag connected. After the last blow, he let go of her

and lurched back a step, and she ran down the alley in the opposite direction, propelled by so much

adrenaline that when she finally rushed out into the next street, she almost ran into the patrol car that was

cruising by.

“Some horrible man just grabbed me and dragged me into an alley,” she said to the two patrolmen who

piled out of the car. She jabbed her finger behind her. “He’s big, and he’s got dark hair and a big jaw,

and he’s wearing a horrible old black leather jacket, and he needs a shave, and he’s probably a drug

dealer or something!”

The two men exploded into action, the taller, younger one pounding down the alley while the older,

stockier one yelled at her to wait and then followed him.

Lucy paced back and forth beside the patrol car, vibrating with energy.

Wow,this was what Tina was talking about. Spontaneity. This was great. This was wonderful. She felt

good. Of course, she couldn’t go around beating up every man she met, but...oh, she felt good. She felt

really good.

She checked her watch. The police had been gone forty-five seconds. Einstein’s theory of relativity. Of

course. Time passed slower when you were moving. Here she’d been standing still, watching her life rush

past her, and all she had to do wasdo something and it slowed down and became this wonderful, rich...

Oh, she felt good.

Sort of.

She slumped suddenly against the side of the patrol car, her adrenaline spent. Maybe she’d killed him.

He deserved it, but maybe she really had hurt him. That physics book was heavy. What had she done?

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What was she doing? She looked at her watch again. A minute gone now. She couldn’t stay there. She

had to go. She couldn’t...

Lucy put her hand up to her face in confusion and when she brought it down again, there was blood on

it. Her cheek. She was bleeding.

She tore a piece of paper out of her address book, wrote her name, address and phone number on it,

and left it under the windshield wiper of the cruiser. Then she went back to her car and drove home, still

vibrating with the aftereffects of the adrenaline, stopping only once along the way, at a drugstore.

“She said you were a horrible drug dealer.” The young patrolman grinned at Zack.

“Arrest her.” Zack tried to breathe normally. He leaned on the wall by the alley, his gaze still searching

the street. “Lock her in the back of the car until I can breathe again. She knows something about the

Bradley job.”

The young cop snorted. “She didn’t look like she knew her own name.”

Zack looked at him with distaste. He was tall, blond, and reasonably good-looking if you liked the

movie-star type, but mostly he was just young. “Look, Junior,” Zack said. “When you’ve been around as

long as I have, you’ll find out that it isn’t what they look like, it’s what they do.” He touched his lip, and

his fingers came away bloody. “Ouch.”

“And I heard you were a tough guy.” The younger cop grinned again.

Zack stared him down until his grin faded. “You know who you remind me of? The kid cop inLethal

Weapon 3. You know, the one who says, ‘It’s my twenty-first birthday today,’ and right away you know

he’s dead meat? You knew the bad guys were going to drill him.” Zack squinted at him. “Of course, in

your case, it’ll be friendly fire.”

“Ha,” the young cop said.

“So where’s my suspect?” Zack said. “Donot tell me you’ve lost her. She’s the only link we’ve got to an

embezzler.”

“My partner Falk went to get her.” He grinned again. “He said he knew you, and that I shouldn’t shoot

you even though you were obviously a dangerous drug dealer. They’re gonna love this back at the

station.”

Zack glared at him, and he swallowed and said, “Really, he’ll be back any minute.” He looked over

Zack’s shoulder, suddenly relieved. “See? Here he comes now.”

Zack eased himself off the wall with great care. Then he looked in the patrol car as it pulled up and

straightened quickly. “Where is she?”

“Wait.” Falk held up his hand as he got out. He slammed the car door and waved a piece of paper at

Zack. “The good news is, she left her address.” He handed it over to Zack, who had slumped back

against the wall. “You want Matthews and me to go pick her up?”

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“ ‘Lucy Savage,’ ” Zack read. “Well, the last name’s right. That woman’s damn near feral. No, I don’t

want you to pick her up. The reason I have to go pick her up now is because the two of you couldn’t

hold on to her. I’ll handle it.”

“You want us for backup? She must have been all of five-seven, maybe one thirty-five. You probably

only got six inches and sixty pounds on her.”

“Very, very funny” Zack pushed himself gingerly away from the wall. “Call Forensics and get some lab

people down here. There’s a bullet in this wall.”

“Your instincts tell you that?”

“No,” Zack said with obvious patience. “The chunk of wall that sliced that hellcat’s cheek told me that.

Somebody was shooting at her.”

Matthews went over to the wall. “He’s right.”

“Well, of course, I’m right. Just what I need—infant cops checking my work. Will you call that in?

Please?” Zack glared at the younger man, who stomped back to the car, grumbling.

“Was I ever that obnoxious?” Zack asked Falk.

“What do you mean, ‘was’? You still are. You sure they weren’t shooting at you? I’m serious,” Falk

added hastily when Zack turned his glare on him. “Not everybody loves you like we do back at the

station.”

“No,” Zack said. “It was her.” Zack looked back at the wall. “Helluva sloppy job, though. Broad

daylight, not a chance of hitting her unless he was a lot closer. This guy is either a real amateur, or he was

just trying to scare her and didn’t care if he picked off an innocent bystander. Like me.”

“You sure you don’t need backup on this?”

“Yeah.” Zack turned back to him. “I think I may just possibly be able to handle one medium-size

woman by myself.”

“I don’t know. She did a nice job on you. I think you need us.”

“Oh, yeah, I need you and Junior here.” Zack jerked his head at the other cop who’d joined them again.

“What was it, Falk? Nobody would work with you, so you stopped by the junior high for help?”

“Hey,” Matthews said. “I’m twenty. I got two years of college.”

“So do I,” Zack said, touching his lip again gingerly. “Fat lot of good it’s doing me here. Get on that

bullet” He turned and walked toward the parking lot and his own car.

“Hey, Warren,” Falk called after him. “Did you have one of those famous instincts of yours right before

she nailed you? Or right after?”

“All great men are persecuted,” Zack said and kept on walking. He knew he was right about this

Bradley thing. And Lucy Savage was very shortly going to be very sorry that she and John Bradley had

ever messed with him.

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As soon as he took some aspirin and got some ice on his damn lip.

Lucy unlocked her massive front door with its jewel-colored leaded glass and then crossed the vestibule

to unlock the beveled-glass inner door. It immediately burst open under the pressure of the three dog

bodies that were pressed against it.

“Easy,” Lucy said, still worn-out from her adrenaline surge. She dropped down onto the tiled floor to

pet them, and they piled around her in the warm glow of the colored sunlight that streamed through the

stained glass.

Einstein, the big sheepdog, flopped down beside her, but Heisenburg, the walking mop, and Maxwell,

the little miscellaneous dog, both climbed into her lap to lick her face and burrow under her hands. She

gathered them all to her, loving them and the warmth and color of her beautiful old house and, for once,

herself.

“I beat up a mugger today,” she told the dogs. “He attacked me and I beat him up. Iwon.” The dogs

looked suitably impressed. That was one of the many great things about dogs. They were easy to

impress. Not like Tina.

But even Tina would be impressed with this. Carefully tipping the little dogs off her lap, Lucy stood and

went inside the house.

Her house. Every time she walked into it, she felt safe. The living room was papered in huge flowers in

shades of rose and edged with wide oak woodwork, and the floors gleamed in the soft sunlight that

filtered through her lace curtains. The fat, worn, upholstered furniture was splashed with flowers, too, in

roses and blues and golds, and the mantel and tables were crammed with pictures, and flowers in vases,

and books. She sank into the big blue overstuffed chair by the wobbly piecrust phone table and looked

through the archway into her dining room, warm with the glow of the stained-glass windows there.

Her house. She felt all the tension ease out of her. Her home.

Einstein barked at her for attention, and she remembered Tina. She dropped her purse and the bag from

the drugstore on the floor and dialed her sister’s number, absentmindedly scratching behind Einstein’s

ears while she listened to the ring.

“Tina?” she said when the ringing stopped, but it was Tina’s machine, so she left a message. “This is

Lucy. I wanted you to know, I just beat up a mugger. I really did, and it waswonderful. And don’t

worry, I’m okay. In fact, I’m great. You were right. I love you!”

And then she hung up and relaxed into the threadbare softness of her chair, hugging herself.

She really did feel wonderful. Sort of tired, but wonderful. Good tired.

Her gaze fell on the drugstore bag where she’d dropped it, and she stood, swooping it up as she