Deadline for Lenny Stern Peter Marabell (best ereader for comics .TXT) 📖

Henri nodded. “Across the street, Café Java. I’ll get a table on the patio right in front. Good sightlines. Easy to see fifty, sixty feet up and down the street.”

The waiter came by and removed our plates. I folded my napkin and put it to one side. AJ sat quietly, sipping her wine.

“What’s up, Russo? What’re you thinking?”

I wasn’t sure if Henri meant about AJ and me, or was asking about Humbug’s Bookstore. I played it safe.

“You’ve got it all figured out?” I said.

Henri nodded.

“You’ll set it up as best you can?”

“Of course.”

I was quiet.

“I’ll ask again,” Henri said. “What’re you thinking?”

“What if the gunmen who show up don’t belong to Joey DeMio? Suppose they’re not professionals.”

“What?” It was AJ, finally in the conversation. “What’re you talking about?”

“Not sure,” I said.

“If not Joey’s gunmen, then who?” she said.

I shrugged.

“We haven’t gotten that far, AJ.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to think about it. Why’d you change your mind, Michael?”

“I haven’t changed my mind, but it was something Joey said.”

I reprised Joey’s annoyance at my question about hiring teenage gunmen.

“Then figure out who hires kids,” AJ said, her irritation had not yet receded.

Henri shot a glance my way.

“Don’t look at him,” she said, pointing at me. “I’m pissed at everything right now, especially him.”

“Okay,” Henri said, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish.

“The question stands,” she said, looking at both of us. “Who hires kids to kill people?”

“It has to be someone not on our radar screen,” Henri said.

“Are you sure you turned the radar on?” AJ said. “You’ve been focused only on Joey DeMio.”

“I’m not letting Joey off the hook just yet,” I said.

“So do two things at once. You guys ought to be good enough for that.”

I glanced at Henri, who shrugged.

AJ glared at me. “Are you going to shrug, too, or come up with a name?”

Before I could respond, Henri said, “One thing about tomorrow … in Harbor Springs?”

“I’m listening,” I said, relieved at the change of subject.

“We’d better assume we’re watching for teenagers, too.”

“Professionals could be young,” AJ said. “What about that new bodyguard, the one you saw at the restaurant today?”

“Jimmy Erwin,” I said.

“He’s barely twenty,” Henri said, “but he is a professional, with a track record to prove it.”

“Those two kids who tried to scare Lenny in the parking lot that day are a long way from being Jimmy Erwin,” I said. “I’d bet they didn’t kill Kate Hubbell.”

“And you can bet they won’t be sent to Harbor Springs tomorrow, either,” Henri said.

“Are you sure they’ll try to get at Lenny tomorrow?” AJ said.

“No,” I said. “The whole thing might come off without a hitch, but we have to assume they’ll try. If not at the bookstore, on the street, or on the way over from Petoskey.”

“I’ll stay off the Harbor-Petoskey Road,” Henri said, referring to the most direct route between the towns. “Maybe I’ll head north first … come in the back way.”

“Lenny needs to be at Humbug’s at least thirty minutes before his talk.”

“We’ll arrive on time.”

“Tina will be with you, right?”

“She will, indeed,” Henri said, draining the last of his Molson. “All right, I’m on my way to get Lenny.”

“Is he still at the office?” AJ said.

“Yeah. He’s working late since he’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Henri said his good-byes, and we were, again, alone.

Our discussion about Harbor Springs seemed to have diverted some of the tension. I wasn’t sure how much, but I didn’t like where AJ and I had left it when Henri joined us.

“AJ …”

“I know … I know, Michael. You don’t have to say it.”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Maybe you do, but not right now. Okay? I’m too … I’m mad at you, I love you, I’m scared. It’s all mashed together.” AJ took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’ve got a tough day tomorrow.”

She eased herself out of the chair. She came around, leaned in and kissed my cheek. “G’night.”

20

I took Beach Road, the scenic route, into downtown Harbor Springs. It ran along the bay, the sandy beach on one side, ornate Victorian cottages of the Wequetonsing Association on the other. The beach was dotted with colorful towels, water toys and vacationers of all sizes, shapes, and ages.

I left the car in the lot across from the New York restaurant, walking up State Street. I spotted Café Java three doors down Main Street, across from Humbug’s Bookstore. I crossed with the light and walked to the coffee shop. Four small two-top tables took up patio space on either side of the shop’s front door. All of them were occupied, but lunch hour was nearing an end. Henri had no doubt figured a way to be at one of them during Lenny’s afternoon appearance. I stood for a moment, looking up and down Main Street. Henri was right. He’d have a clear view in both directions, and of the bookstore itself.

I waited for traffic to clear, crossed the street in the middle of the block, and entered Humbug’s Bookstore. The space was even tighter than I imagined after listening to Henri’s description. I glanced at the shelves crammed with books, the tables crowding the floor, but my attention was drawn to the podium in the front window. White folding chairs had been set up close to the podium.

Lenny would entertain folks with his back to the street, less than three feet from the glass. An easy target if the shooters didn’t care how many other people they shot up.

“Mr. Russo? Michael Russo?” a woman said, hidden by two piles of books.

“That’s me,” I said. “Private eye to the literati.”

She came from behind a table, and we shook hands.

“Eleanor Cosworth,” she said, staring at my loose-fitted print shirt. “I was alerted that you were a smart aleck.”

“You have good sources.”

“I’ve heard all about your Philip Marlowe heroics.”

“I’ve been leaning toward Harry Bosch myself,” I said. “Weird guy.”

“The kind folks at McLean & Eakin filled me in.”

“You bookstore people sure are a clannish bunch.”

“You have no idea,” she said, as her eyes wandered over my