“I’ve been worse,” I told him.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he said. “But there is one thing that’s been bothering me a little since I got here, though.”
“What’s that?”
He looked down at the bed. “Is that a gun under your blanket, or are you just glad to see me?”
“McGuire got my Beretta back for me,” I said. “A little extra firepower never hurts.”
“Speaking of firepower,” Karl said, “I had an interesting email waiting when I got in to work tonight. From one of my snitches.”
“Do tell,” I said.
“Is this secret stuff?” Christine asked. “Should I go out in the hall?”
Karl gave her a smile and a shrug. “Don’t see why. Your old man’s gonna tell you all about it later, anyway.” He looked at me. “Right?”
“Yeah, most likely,” I said.
“Since he trusts you, I trust you,” he told Christine. “You might as well stick around. Besides, you’re the only one in here who’s easy on the eyes.”
They exchanged that look again, and I made myself stop wondering what it might mean. Christine’s love life is none of my damn business, as she’d be the first one to tell me. Neither is Karl’s.
But – my daughter and my partner. Dear sweet merciful Jesus.
“So you got this email…” I said to Karl.
“Yeah, from a guy who’s kinda on the fringes of the Calabrese organization. He picks up interesting gossip once in a while. He trades it for small favors, or just the chance to bank some goodwill.” He paused.
“Come on, Karl,” I said. “Stop milking it. What’s the guy say?”
“He tells me that Calabrese has brought in some out-of-town talent to help in this war with the Delatassos.”
“Philadelphia?” I asked. “Don’t tell me we’ve got more thugs from Philly in town.”
“No, this one’s from Boston. And he’s no run-of-the mill thug. Word is, Calabrese hired John Wesley Harding.”
There was silence in my little room until Christine broke it by saying, “John Wesley Harding? Wasn’t he some desperado in the Old West?”
“Hardin,” Karl said. “You’re thinking of John Wesley Hardin. This guy’s name is the same, except for the ‘g’ at the end.”
“Desperado’s not a bad description, though, from the stories I heard,” I said. “Dude’s supposed to’ve killed more people than the Black Death, although that’s an exaggeration. Probably.”
“Is he warm?” Christine asked.
“He was,” I said. “Still is, as far as I know. Maybe that’s why Calabrese hired him. Could be he wants somebody who’s as deadly in daylight as he is at night. That’d be pretty useful in the kind of war Calabrese is fighting.”
“Wonder if one of Harding’s parents was a Bob Dylan fan?” Karl said.
“Well, what I’m wondering,” Christine said, “is whether he’s Daddy’s ‘guardian angel’.”
Karl looked at her. “You mean whoever iced those three guys this morning?”
“Them, as well as the one who took out the Delatasso fangster who got behind me, that night Calabrese got cornered,” I said. “I agree with McGuire – it seems pretty unlikely that I’ve got two guardian angels. I think it’s pretty amazing that I have even one.”
“Well, whoever he is, it’s probably not Mister Harding,” Karl said. “My source says that Calabrese just hired him, and the dude hasn’t even hit town yet.”
“Your source could be wrong,” Christine said. “That ever happen to you?”
“Sure, all the time,” Karl said. “And if his information was off by just a few hours, then, yeah, it could put Harding behind Jerry’s Diner this morning, in time to save Stan’s ass. But it still doesn’t explain the Delatasso guy who got nailed in the street last week.”
“Why not?” Christine asked.
“Because if somebody on Calabrese’s payroll had killed that shooter who’d got behind me,” I said, “Calabrese wouldn’t have been shy about saying so. In fact, he’d probably have told me that it wipes out whatever obligation he might have incurred when I saved his ass.”
Christine frowned. “So, we’re back to square one,” she said. “Either there are two different ‘guardian angels’ involved here–”
“Which seems unlikely,” I said.
“Which seems unlikely,” she agreed. “Or it wasn’t this Harding guy at all. So we still don’t know who’s doing it.”
“Yeah, I can’t even send him a ‘Thank You’ card,” I said. “Too bad. I had a nice one all picked out.”
Nobody spoke for a little while, then Christine said, “We were talking about Lacey earlier. It just occurred to me that she makes pretty good guardian-angel material, Daddy. She likes you, and you told me that she’s pretty handy with a gun. What do you think?”
“Hmmm. I never thought of that,” Karl said.
“Absolutely not,” I said. “No fucking way.”
Christine tilted her head a little to one side. “How come you’re so sure?”
“Like I told you – Lacey’s in Wisconsin, visiting her sister.”
“Maybe she came back early,” Christine said, “and hasn’t told you yet.”
“No chance,” I said. “If she was back in town, she’d have let me know.” I paused for a second. “Probably.”
That prompted another exchange of meaningful looks between Christine and Karl – something I was starting to get tired of.
Karl looked at me. “You and Lace ever figure out what kind of relationship you guys want?”
“We’re still working on that,” I said. “That’s one of the things she said she wanted to think about out in Wisconsin.”
Karl nodded as if he understood, although I was pretty sure he didn’t.
“Besides,” I said, “if Lacey was watching my back like that, she’d want me to know about it. She wouldn’t be pulling this Lone Ranger crap and disappearing once her work was done.”
“OK,” Christine said. “If you say so. It was just a thought.”
“You’re probably right, Stan – it’s not Lacey who’s your shadow,” Karl said. He gave me a half-smile. “Hell, I bet she doesn’t even know what evil lurks in the hearts of men.”
“Of course she does, Karl,” I said quietly. “She’s a cop, isn’t she? She knows.” I looked toward my vampire daughter. “We all know.”
“So, who’s gonna replace Victor Castle,” I asked Christine, “as the capo di tutti supi?” I noticed sirens in the distance, but that’s a pretty common sound around a hospital.
“It’s anybody’s guess,” she said. “No clear candidate has emerged, as they say.”
“I was in the hospital when Castle took over from the late Mister Vollman, so I never got around to asking you about the process. How does the supe community choose a leader, anyway? Is there a series of… primaries or something?”
The sirens were louder now, and there were more of them. But the sound didn’t seem to be getting any closer to the hospital.
Christine gave me a small smile. “It’s nothing so organized,” she said. “What usually happens is–”
That was when music started coming from Karl’s pocket – the first thirteen notes of the James Bond theme, to be exact. Karl had just received a text message.
He doesn’t get them very often, so he pulled out his phone, thumbed an icon, and looked at the screen. From his expression, I was pretty sure he wasn’t reading birthday greetings from his mom, and my suspicion was confirmed when he said, “Aw, fuck!”
As he put the phone back in his pocket, Christine and I both said, “What?” at the same time.
“There’s been another bombing,” he said to Christine, then looked at me. “Ricardo’s Ristorante.”
The sudden jolt of adrenaline started the bump on my head throbbing all over again as I asked Karl, “How bad?”
“McGuire didn’t say – you can’t put a lot of info into a text message, anyway. But when’s the last time you heard of a bombing that wasn’t bad, Stan?”