The Cigarette Killer Read online

  “You’re worth a pretty penny,” Seth said to the cat.

  The cat responded by rubbing its head against Seth’s arm. He wrapped the wet cat in a dry towel and went to the bedroom.

  Exhaustion caught up with him. He hadn’t slept much, if at all, in the last week. There’d been too much to do. He left a message for Ava telling her that he was heading to bed. He pulled up the covers, made a spot for the cat, and was sound asleep in no time.

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  Two

  Seth opened his eyes when a garbage truck revved its engine. He closed them again. Not awake and not quite asleep, Seth’s mind transported him back to when he spent weekends in this room. He could almost smell the newsprint of the cheap paperback mysteries stacked to the ceiling around the room and the old piano that sat against the wall. At eleven years old, his room had a vaguely misused smell.

  The bang of a trash dumpster being set down in the alley sent the images of his past falling away. The last thing he remembered was . . .

  “You know that cat is pregnant,” a male voice said.

  Seth was lying with his face in his pillow.

  “Cat?” Seth asked.

  He turned his head to see the tabby cat lying on the bed with him.

  “You don’t like cats,” the man said.

  Seth rolled over and sat up.

  “Slowly,” a male voice said.

  “R.J.?” Seth asked. Grinning from ear to ear, Seth added, “What are you doing here?”

  On their first meeting, R.J. had dealt the blow that had removed Seth’s front teeth from his mouth. Big Daddy made it right by arranging for R.J. to drive Seth around, first here in New York, but eventually he drove Seth and his mother in Denver, where R.J. had settled and made a life. The man had seemed ancient when Seth first met him. The ten or so years separating them in age didn’t seem like such a big deal now. As if he were thinking the same thing, R.J. smiled.

  “I didn’t realize that you were in town for Big Daddy’s funeral,” Seth said.

  R.J. shook his head.

  “I’m here to try to prevent your funeral,” R.J. said.

  “My funeral?” Seth asked. “Am I in danger?”

  “The way I heard it, you was being held captive,” R.J. said.

  “I was.” Seth nodded. “Yesterday. In one of those interrogation rooms under Worth Street Station.”

  “That don’t mean you’re in danger?” R.J. asked. “Sounds like you are to me.”

  R.J. snorted at Seth’s idiocy.

  “Good point,” Seth said with a nod. “Mind if I use the toilet?”

  R.J. shrugged. Seth got up to use the bathroom. When he returned, R.J. was sitting on a chair near the door. He nodded to Seth, picked up the newsletter, and lit a cigarette. Like he had most of high school, Seth got dressed while R.J. read the newspaper and smoked. When Seth finished, he stood in front of R.J.

  “Breakfast?” Seth asked.

  “Claire made them burritos?” R.J. asked.

  “There’s a stack of them in the refrigerator right now,” Seth said. “Or there was when I got home.”

  R.J. nodded and stood up.

  “You’ll tell me everything?” Seth asked.

  “As much as I know,” R.J. said. “Which isn’t a lot. You making coffee?”

  Seth nodded, and they went out into the quiet apartment.

  “You was held captive, right?”

  Seth nodded. He gestured toward the kitchen, and R.J. followed.

  “Then, it might not make sense, but they’re coming for you,” R.J. said.

  Seth scowled.

  “Don’t give me that dark look, young man,” R.J. scolded Seth as he had when Seth was a child.

  “The truth is the truth,” they repeated in unison, R.J.’s oft spoken admonishments of Seth. “Whether you like it or not.”

  They laughed.

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  Three

  “So, R.J. says . . .” Seth said.

  “Is that a cat?” Claire asked.

  Seth looked down at the tabby cat in his arms, and back at Claire.

  “A cat, Seth?” Claire asked with a slow shake of her head.

  “I think so,” Seth said. Claire shook her head at him. “It looks like one.”

  Claire got up from her couch and took the cat from Seth. She looked the cat in the face for a moment before shaking her head at Seth again. She carried the cat into her kitchen to get her some food.

  “She’s pregnant,” Claire’s voice came from the kitchen. “Probably not older than a year.”

  “You like cats, don’t you?” Seth asked.

  “That’s not the point,” Claire said.

  Claire had been Seth’s first real friend. They’d met his very first day in New York City when he was ten years old and absolutely alone. She took him to her mother, and they welcomed him into their lives. Claire was incredibly brave and deeply loyal. Her mother and her brother had lived with her in this apartment while her mother worked at the diner downstairs. Claire had been with Seth when R.J. had hit him. They’d met Big Daddy together. Seth had brought her brother’s body home from Vietnam. Seth had been with her when she buried her mother. He was the one who uncovered the truth about her father’s disappearance. She’d been with him when he buried his mother and then years later, when he buried the bastard he’d thought was his father. He’d slipped her away in the middle of the night from the cretin she’d married and helped her raise three daughters. She was his friend, with a solid dash of caretaker when he needed it.

  Seth had bought the building with the proceeds from his first music sales. He’d bought the building to ensure that Claire and her family would always have a place to live. Claire had lived here most of her life. After her mother died, she acted as the manager for the building’s eight two-bedroom apartments and three business spaces downstairs on a street corner in Hell’s Kitchen. She also kept Seth in clean clothing and food whenever he was in town.

  “Hi, R.J. How are you?” Claire asked, as she rounded the corner from her kitchen.

  She set the cat down with a bowl of food and water. She went back into the kitchen and returned with two cups of coffee. She gave Seth a cup of coffee.

  “It’s always nice to see you,” Claire said. She held out an arm and they hugged. “Did you come for the funeral?”

  Claire gave R.J. a cup of coffee. R.J. opened his mouth to speak.

  “He came to prevent my funeral,” Seth said. “My funeral! Can you believe it?”

  Claire took Seth’s coffee cup out of his hands and set it on the coffee table. Seth blinked at her. She nodded toward R.J.

  “What’s going on, R.J.?” Claire asked.

  Seth raised his eyes to the ceiling, and Claire laughed. R.J. looked at Seth and then at Claire.

  “You all haven’t changed much,” R.J. said.

  Claire and Seth smiled. R.J. grinned at them. Claire sat down on her couch and gestured to the chairs. Seth and R.J. sat down.

  “I didn’t come to the funeral because there’s some folks who simply aren’t so good for me,” R.J. said. “Bring out my violent side. But I got a call from one of the guys who used to fix things for Big Daddy. You know, when we was all here.”

  Claire and Seth nodded.

  “The guy said that Seth was in big trouble,” R.J. said. “That Big Daddy had something on somebody but now that Big Daddy was gone, there was nothing stopping this guy from coming after Seth. ‘With both barrels.’ Yeah — he said it just like that.”

  “Like weapons?” Seth asked.

  “Listen to you — ‘Like weapons?’” R.J. said in a mock “geek” voice. He laughed. “I mean big-assed guns. Bam! Bam! Both barrels.”

  Seth nodded. He leaned down to pick up the coffee cup. Claire gave him the stink eye, and he backed up.

  “Should we ask Bernice?” Claire asked, of Big Daddy’s wife.

  “That’s the question,
isn’t it?” R.J. asked. “What does Bernice know?”

  “We can ask her,” Claire said.

  “I don’t know,” R.J. said with a shake of his head. “Big Daddy wouldn’t want any of this stank to touch her.”

  “That doesn’t mean it didn’t,” Claire said. “Bernice knows a lot more than you’d think.”

  “She does?” Seth and R.J. said in unison.

  Claire laughed at their similar expressions and tones of voice. There was movement behind them, and Bernice came into the room. Her appearance had an effect on the men. She was a strong woman, light in energy, and, even at nearly 75 years old, beautiful. As if she were royalty, they stepped back and bowed their heads. She walked past them to the kitchen with an air of beauty and power that required their respect. No one said a word until she returned to the living room with a cup of coffee and cream.

  “Beautiful cat,” Bernice said.

  “It’s Seth’s,” Claire said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Bernice said. “Seth doesn’t like cats.”

  Bernice gracefully bent down to pet the cat.

  “You know she’s going to have kittens, right?” Bernice asked.

  “I’ve been told,” Seth said.

  “Of course, you have,” Bernice smiled. She stood up. “Such a pretty cat.”

  “You did remember that Bernice is staying with me,” Claire said. “Until her apartment is ready.”

  “Sorry,” Seth and R.J. mumbled, almost in unison.

  Bernice laughed at them when the men shook their heads.

  “I don’t think that I realized how much time the two of you have spent together until just this moment,” Bernice said. She nodded and smiled. “How are you, Robert James?”

  She held out her arms, and they gave each other a brief hug.

  “You weren’t here for the funeral,” Bernice said.

  “No, ma’am,” R.J. said.

  “I understand,” Bernice said. “I’d probably make the same choice. How is your wife? Family?”

  “Everybody’s good,” R.J. said. “I was worried ’bout Seth, so I came.”

  After a moment, he added, “Ma’am.”

  “You were worried about Seth because of . . .” Bernice said.

  She nodded to R.J. and then looked at Seth.

  “You don’t know, or you aren’t going to tell me?” Bernice asked.

  Seth gave her an impish shrug, and Bernice grinned at him.

  “You may have grey hair, but your head is permanently in music, isn’t it?” Bernice asked with a smile.

  Seth opened his mouth to protest. From the moment he’d heard that Big Daddy had died to this moment, he’d worked every connection, every friend, and every relative to make sure that this woman didn’t end up in jail, destitute, or dead. His eyes blinked while he calculated his response. After a moment, he grinned.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?” Seth asked. “My head was in music.”

  Bernice laughed. She hugged Seth and kissed his cheek.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done for me and Big Daddy,” Bernice said.

  “Of course,” Seth said, blushing to his ears. “My pleasure.”

  She gave him a fond look as she moved away.

  “Why is Seth in danger?” Bernice said as she sat down.

  “A guy I know said that Big Daddy had something on somebody,” R.J. paraphrased what he’d said before. “Now that Big Daddy’s gone, there’s nothing stopping this guy from coming after Seth. ‘With both barrels.’”

  Bernice’s eyes momentarily squinted at the sound of “both barrels.”

  “You know who he’s talking about,” Seth said.

  Bernice gave an imperceptible nod. She took a breath to speak but paused.

  “Did you meet Wilma?” Bernice asked.

  “Who?” Seth asked.

  His eyes flicked to Claire, and she shrugged. He glanced at R.J., but R.J.’s eyes were locked on Bernice.

  “Wilma,” Bernice repeated. “High yellow. Looks like Bud, sort of.”

  “I don’t think so,” Seth said.

  “She was at the funeral,” Bernice said. “I saw her talking to your daughter, Sandy. Have you asked Sandy about her?”

  “I’m not sure what I would ask Sandy,” Seth said with a shake of his head. “Who is Wilma?”

  “She’s supposed to be Big Daddy’s sister,” Bernice said. “But Big Daddy’s father . . .”

  “Bud,” Seth said the name of his first piano mentor.

  “That’s right, Bud,” Bernice said, “came home from World War I unable to have children. The gas. It happened to a lot of African-American men. Big Daddy was fathered by a friend in some wild night.”

  Bernice waved her hand as if everyone knew how wild Big Daddy’s parents could be.

  “Don’t get me wrong. As far as Big Daddy was concerned, Bud was his father,” Bernice said. “Period. If my husband could have had one wish, he would have brought Bud and Di back from the dead. He loved them; and they loved him. That said — our children have zero musical talent, if you know what I mean.”

  “You don’t think this Wilma is related to Big Daddy,” Seth said.

  “All I know is that she does,” Bernice said. “Says she’s Bud’s daughter from when he was touring. Di always said that Wilma’s mother was a voodoo priestess.”

  Seth looked at the ground while he tried to work it through.

  “You don’t know anything about this,” Bernice said.

  Seth shook his head.

  “Seth was held hostage most of yesterday,” R.J. said. “He’s been out of the loop.”

  “You think Wilma did that?” Claire asked.

  “We don’t know who or why,” Seth said. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone named ‘Wilma.’ Bud was my friend, taught me how to survive as a piano player. He was . . . talented, genius, really, and complicated. I haven’t met anyone who looked like him.”

  Bernice nodded. As if weighing her options, she looked down and drank her coffee.

  “Well,” Bernice said. She looked up at Seth and R.J, and then turned her head to look at Claire. “I guess it’s time for me to get involved.”

  “‘Involved’?” Seth asked. “In what?”

  Bernice looked at him for a long time. Rather than respond, she got up from the couch and went into Claire’s guest bedroom. Claire, Seth, and R.J. watched the doorway. She returned with a full manila envelope. The envelope was old, worn thin in places in the creases made around the heavy contents. Bernice held it out to Seth. He looked down at the envelope.

  “Seth” was scrawled across the envelope in Big Daddy’s mother’s handwriting. Seth looked up at Bernice and saw that she was watching his face.

  “You don’t know what this is,” Bernice said.

  Seth shook his head. Bernice gestured with the envelope, and Seth took it from her. He held it up to his nose.

  “Di,” Seth said with a vague smile at the memory of Big Daddy’s mother.

  R.J. looked at Seth. He smiled at the memory of the “Grand Old Dame,” as Di had been called.

  “I found it when my mother died. I’ve never been through it,” Bernice said.

  Seth gave her a vague nod.

  “Big Daddy told me not to give it to you,” Bernice said. “You were in love with Andy and finishing that horrible college, and then you left the city and met Mitch, went to Vietnam, and Andy had Sandy, and all of that.”

  Bernice swallowed against those pain-filled years of Seth’s life.

  “Big Daddy said it was best to leave the past alone,” Bernice said. She lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug. “Seems like the past isn’t the past anymore.”

  “What is it?” Seth asked.

  “What is what?” Bernice asked.

  “If the past isn’t the past, what is it?” R.J. asked.

  “Look at yourself,” Bernice said. She nodded to him and sat down next to Claire. “You’re here in New York with Seth. I’m here. Claire. We’re here in this buil
ding. When was the last time we were all together like this?”

  Seth and R.J. looked down at the ground. Claire gave Bernice a kind smile.

  “Seems to me like the past has returned for us to clean up the messes those we love simply were not capable of cleaning up,” Bernice said with a nod.

  Seth blew out a heavy breath and turned to leave.

  “No, you don’t,” Bernice said. “You are not going to leave me out like I’m the stupid woman.”

  Seth turned around to look at her.

  “I . . .” Seth started.

  “Yes, you were,” Bernice said with a sniff. “You were going to head out. How do you really think my husband kept himself alive?”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.” Seth started.

  “I know,” Bernice said. “I’m just saying that, now that Big Daddy’s gone — well, and you worked out all that stuff with the business and the government — I want to be involved in my own life, not sheltered like some dumb songbird.”

  Seth took a breath, which made his cheeks puff out.

  “What?” Bernice asked.

  “Songbird?” Seth asked with a squint of his left eye. “Dumb?”

  Bernice laughed. Claire smiled. R.J. nodded and took out a cigarette.

  “You are sadly mistaken if you think you’re going to smoke that here,” Claire said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” R.J. said.

  “And anyway, your wife told me that you’d quit,” Claire said. R.J. looked at the cigarette. “More than twenty years ago.”

  R.J. gave Claire a guilty nod. Claire held out her hand, and R.J. put the cigarette in it. She kept holding out her hand until he put the pack in her hand.

  “Thank you,” Claire said.

  “If that’s it, I’ll . . .” Seth said.

  “Pour it out here,” Claire said. “We’ll get through it faster if we do it together.”

  She nodded to Bernice, and they cleared off the coffee table. Seth opened the manila envelope. He tipped it onto the table, and the contents slid out. Claire pushed the contents of the manila envelope to spread it out. He looked into the envelope and pulled out a card. He read the card. When he looked up, they were looking at him.