Terese came out of the rest room, confused as to what was going on.
She hurried back to the table. When she saw the body her hands flew to her face to cover her mouth. Aghast, she looked at Jack.
“What happened?” she asked. “You’re as white as a ghost.”
“At least I’m alive,” Jack said. “Thanks to this policeman.”
In confusion Terese turned to the policeman for an explanation, but the sound of multiple sirens could be heard converging on the restaurant, and the policeman began moving people out of the way and urging them to sit down.
30
* * *
TUESDAY, 8:45 P.M., MARCH 26, 1996
Jack looked out the window of the speeding car and watched the nighttime scenery flash by with unseeing eyes. Jack was in the front passenger seat of Shawn Magoginal’s unmarked car as it cruised south on the FDR Drive. Shawn was the plainclothes policeman who had mysteriously materialized at the crucial moment to save Jack from sure death.
Over an hour had passed since the event, but Jack was no more relaxed.
In fact, now that he’d had time to think about this third attempt on his life he was more agitated than right after the event. He was literally shaking. In an attempt to hide this belated reaction from Shawn he clutched both hands to his knees.
Earlier, when the police cars and the ambulance had arrived at the restaurant, chaos had reigned. The police wanted everyone’s names and addresses. Some people balked, others complied willingly. At first Jack had assumed he’d be treated similarly, but then Shawn had informed him that Detective Lieutenant Lou Soldano wanted to talk with him at police headquarters.
Jack had not wanted to go, but he’d been given no choice. Terese had insisted on coming along, but Jack had talked her out of it. She’d only relented once he’d promised to call her later. She’d told him that she’d be at the agency. After such an experience she didn’t want to be alone.
Jack ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. A combination of the wine and tension had made it as dry as the inside of a sock. He didn’t want to go to police headquarters for fear they might detain him.
He’d failed to report Reginald’s murder and he’d been at the scene of the drugstore homicide. To top it off, he’d said enough to Laurie to indicate a potential link between Reginald and Beth’s murder.
Jack sighed and ran a worried hand through his hair. He wondered how he’d respond to the inevitable questions he’d be asked.
“You okay?” Shawn questioned. He glanced at Jack, sensing his anxiety.
“Yeah, fine,” Jack said. “It’s been a wonderful evening in New York.
It’s a city where you can never get bored.”
“That’s a positive way to look at it,” Shawn agreed.
Jack shot a look at the policeman, who seemed to have taken his comment literally.
“I have a couple of questions,” Jack said. “How the hell did you happen to be there at the restaurant? And how did you know I was a doctor? And how is it that I have Lou Soldano to thank?”
“Lieutenant Soldano got a tip you might be in danger,” Shawn said.
“How’d you know I was at the restaurant?” Jack asked.
“Simple,” Shawn said. “Sergeant Murphy and I tailed you from the morgue.”
Jack again looked out at the dark city as it sped by and shook his head imperceptibly. He was embarrassed for having thought he’d been so clever to ensure he’d not been followed. It was painfully obvious that he was out of his league.
“You almost gave us the slip at Bloomies,” Shawn said. “But I guessed what you were up to by then.”
Jack turned back to the detective. “Who gave Lieutenant Soldano the tip?” he asked. He assumed it had to have been Laurie.
“That I don’t know,” Shawn said. “But you’ll soon be able to ask him yourself.”
The FDR Drive imperceptibly became the South Street Viaduct. Ahead Jack could see the familiar silhouette of the Brooklyn Bridge come into view. Against the pale night sky it looked like a gigantic lyre.