Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (i can read books TXT) 📕

for Robert Chance, Gramm led Phoenix and Mira to chairs along the far wall. I joined them after I was told someone would be out to speak with me shortly.

I had refrained from seeking details in the lobby or on the crowded elevator. Now I asked what happened.

“This morning we held our annual public meeting to discuss priorities for the state funding awarded in the new fiscal year,” he said. “We seek public input as well as that of stakeholder agencies in the Alliance. We discuss community goals and programs we give financial and logistical support. Sponsorships, education action plans, sustainable housing, remediation of food deserts, environmental concerns, special events. Then we vote to prioritize.”

“A long agenda,” I said.

“Things usually move quickly. This year, however, we had a…hiccup.”

“Oh?”

Gramm took a deep breath. “Two months from now we’ll have our biggest special event ever, the NCADI.”

“Bobby mentioned something like that a few months back,” Mira said.

“A conference,” I said. “I remember him talking to Sam about it.” I looked at Gramm. “What’s it stand for again?”

“The National Conference on American Diversity and Inclusion, our most ambitious undertaking ever.” Gramm waited as Phoenix, Mira, and I exchanged looks. “It’s a mouthful. But it’s not all ours. APP is one of many major sponsors and a pass-through for donations and grants. During the last four days of June speakers from all over—academics and educators, agency heads, politicians, community organizers, authors, panelists from various fields—will discuss every aspect of a multicultural society. Civic. Political. Economic.”

“Our friend’s cousin is one of your speakers,” I said. “Drea Wingard.” Sam Wingard, the super at Bobby’s Elmwood Village apartment building, had a cousin from the DC area whose book on racism had sold well last year. A copy I had not yet read was on my living room bookshelf. “But what does all this have to do with what happened to Bobby?”

“This year the meeting was at Temple Beth Zion.”

Which explained why Bobby had been brought to General. Housed in a modernist circular building whose ten scalloped walls symbolized the Ten Commandments, the reform synagogue was nearby on Delaware. On the National Register of Historic Places, it was home to the largest Jewish congregation in Western New York, a massive Casavant Frères pipe organ, and an estimable museum of Judaica.

“One of the men at the meeting had serious misgivings about APP’s sponsorship of such a conference,” Gramm continued. “I had never seen him before. Neither had anyone on our board or staff. He identified himself as Dr. C.J. Lansing. He began in a pleasant enough voice. But by the time he got around to accusing us of having a liberal bias and pandering to political correctness, tempers were high.”

“As I understand it, you’re a liberal think tank,” Phoenix said. “What did he expect?”

“I don’t know.” Gramm looked off for a moment. “But the more agitated people got, the more he seemed to enjoy things, until he was confronted. Then he got agitated.”

I made a mental note to find Dr. C.J. Lansing. “He the one who attacked Bobby?”

Gramm shook his head. “That happened outside. Lansing was still inside then. But Dr. Chance was his main challenger, matching him point for point, dismantling his argument with facts, logic, and humor. If it had been a real debate, your godfather would have cleaned his clock.”

I felt my jaw clench. “How did Bobby get outside?”

“One of our principal donors was there,” Gramm said. “Catherine Cathcart.”

“Cathcart? The media people?”

He nodded. “But the family made their fortune in pharmaceuticals long before they sold the business and formed the Cathcart Broadcast Group. Her grandson William is the current CEO.” He smiled as he began to describe the woman, obvious affection finding its way into his voice. “Mrs. Cathcart’s about ninety and rather frail. But she’s a dear, still sharp and devoted to APP. She rarely spends more than a couple of hours outside her home. She uses a cane but is grateful for an arm when it’s offered. It was late morning when Maury, the parking lot attendant, stuck his head inside and told one of my staff her car had arrived.”

“When was that, relative to Dr. Lansing’s complaint? And Bobby.”

“At the height of it. I think the interruption helped relieve some of the tension. Dr. Chance offered to put the Marquess of Queensberry Rules on hold so he could escort a lady to the parking lot. That got a laugh.”

I bit back a smile myself. When he had taught me to box, Bobby had stressed the importance of knowing when to follow the Queensberry Rules and when to abandon them.

“So Lansing sat down.” Gramm glanced down at his hands and flexed his fingers. “A few minutes after they went out, as I was regaining control of the meeting, Mrs. Cathcart managed to get back inside the entry and scream for help.”

“What happened?”

“A gang of young men—nine or ten, Maury said. Skinheads maybe. They surrounded him and the driver and Dr. Chance, when he tried to help.” Gramm’s jaw tightened. “They beat three men in their sixties or older and hurled slurs at them.”

“Jesus,” Phoenix said. “Who treats old men like that?”

“Bigots who saw two Jews and a Black man,” I said. “How are the other two?”

“Still down in the ER, with Mrs. Cathcart and her grandson. She refuses to leave until her driver’s released. He’s got some cuts, Maury’s got a black eye. I’m afraid Dr. Chance got the worst of it. By the time I got out there, the men were running toward Main. But first responders were on the scene in minutes, so Dr. Chance got immediate attention.”

I thought about Jasper Hellman. His surname could have been Jewish or could have belonged to an anti-Semite. Either way, I doubted he knew Temple Beth Zion existed or had the brains to organize gang violence. “This could be nothing but a random attack,” I said.

Gramm nodded. “On a synagogue. Maury did catch them defacing two walls—”

“Family of Robert Chance?”

A tall woman in green scrubs