Deadline for Lenny Stern by Peter Marabell (beautiful books to read TXT) 📕

job to do. I respect that. We won’t stop you.”

“But you won’t leave me alone either.”

“One of us will always be with you,” I said. “Doesn’t mean we sit in on a meeting or get in your way during an interview. But we stay close, yeah, especially when you’re in the open.”

“What does that mean?”

“To and from work, a meeting, interview, anything like that. We get you to your destination, then do our best to stay out of the way.”

Lenny unfolded his arms. Some of the edge was gone.

“So, you’re not with me every minute?”

“What I just said, Lenny. You’re in the open, we’re there. We …”

Lenny raised his hands, palms out.

“Got it,” he said. “I … . What else?”

“You want to sit down now?” I said.

Lenny nodded slowly and pulled out a chair.

The tension eased, but it hadn’t left the table yet.

“Sorry, Tina,” Lenny said. “I don’t care about these two, but I shouldn’t have growled at you.”

Tina paused for a moment. “No, you shouldn’t have,” she said. “I don’t get paid enough put up with that. But I accept your apology.”

“All right,” I said, “we’ve got some work to do.”

Henri and I outlined our routine for covering Lenny. He listened better than I expected, considering how much he hated the idea.

When we finished, I took the manila file out of my brief bag and put it on the table.

“Now, about the death threats,” I said, pointing at the file. “I read the emails and transcripts of the texts.”

“I told you I’ve been threatened before,” Lenny said.

“Well, I haven’t,” Tina said. “This might be the daily grind for you guys, but I sell books. I got scared. Especially the voicemails. They …” She shook her head.

I put my hand on the folder. “You read all of these?” I said to Tina.

“Uh-huh.”

“What was it about the voicemails that got to you?”

“Hearing the words,” she said. “It was easier to keep a distance with the emails. Just words on a page. I read true crime for a living. But hearing a voice was something … I don’t know, more real I guess. It was so soft, almost quiet, measured. It was a lot creepier than a loud voice.”

“You think Tina’s in danger, too?” Lenny said.

I caught a glimpse of Tina’s face. She tensed up at Lenny’s question. It had occurred to her.

“Not in the same way as you, Lenny,” I said. “She’s not the public face of the revealed corruption, like you are.”

“Should I feel relieved?” Tina said.

“Well,” I said, “since only you, Lenny and Kate Hubbell have actually seen the hard evidence …”

“But only I know where the documents are,” Lenny said.

“You think it might be a good idea to tell us,” Henri said, “just in case you get popped on the way home?”

“Thought you weren’t going to let that happen,” Lenny said, and smiled for the first time this morning.

“Guess I’m not relieved yet,” Tina said. “Have you talked with Kate about this?”

I shook my head. “Haven’t met the woman.”

“Want me to talk to her?” Tina said.

I looked over at Henri. He shrugged.

“You know her pretty well?”

“Yeah, pretty well.”

“Keep it simple,” I said, and outlined a few things Kate Hubbell needed to know before she arrived in Petoskey for the book tour. “Tell her stay alert, vary her commuting routine.”

“Okay,” Tina said.

“Once the tour starts,” I said, “you’ll be with Lenny most of the time, right?”

“Like glue,” Tina said. “My job’s to run interference for him, when I’m not selling books.”

“Back to the documents,” I said. “Your attorney has them, right? Where have you hidden them?”

“In plain sight,” he said. “My attorney’s around the corner at Jagger-Stovall. Know the firm?”

Before I could respond, the door opened and in walked Charles Bigelow. He didn’t look happy. Lot of that going around.

8

“Someone should have told me about this meeting,” Bigelow said. He was dressed in a well-fitted dark gray two-piece suit over a white shirt and solid yellow tie. His eyes were narrow and gloomy.

“You weren’t invited,” I said.

Bigelow straightened his frame. A power stance, no doubt.

“If you meet with my author, I’m invited. Is that clear, Mr. Russo?”

Be nice if this guy went back to Chicago, and soon.

He did a subtle double-take in Henri’s direction.

“And who might you be, sir?” Bigelow said to Henri. The “sir” came out as anything but respectful.

“Henri LaCroix,” I said, “meet Charles Bigelow, from Gloucester Publishing Company.”

“Morning,” Henri said.

“What business do you have here?” Bigelow said.

“The man keeps me alive,” Lenny said before Henri could respond. “He’s got a real big gun. Show it to him, Henri.” Lenny muffled a laugh. He’d slipped from grumpy to stand-up comic at the first sign of a straight man.

“That will hardly be necessary,” Bigelow said, and pulled out a chair. “Would one of you care to fill me in?”

Henri stared straight ahead, Tina looked at her half-empty coffee mug.

I glanced at Lenny, wondering if he wanted to chime in again. He shrugged.

“We were discussing keeping your client alive,” I said.

“He means me,” Lenny said, not quite smiling.

“How do you propose to do that?” Bigelow said, ignoring Lenny.

“Our job is to keep Lenny alive,” I said. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Everything regarding my author and my book is my concern,” Bigelow said. “You would do well to remember that.”

“Hard for them to forget,” Lenny said, but he wasn’t laughing.

“Mr. Bigelow,” I said, “you know about publishing books, we know how to protect people. It’s what we do.” I thought that sounded pretty reasonable.

“I am paying the bill for this,” he said, and waved his arm over the table so as not to miss any of us.

“All right, it goes something like this,” I said. “If Lenny’s at home or at the office, particularly the office, he’s safe. If he’s anywhere else, one of us …” I pointed at myself, then at Henri, “ … will be with him all the time.”

“All generalities, with nothing to tell me how you plan to responsibly protect him,” Bigelow said.

“For god’s sake, Bigelow.”