Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (100 best novels of all time txt) 📗

he started sipping as he began his second week home, his colleagues recounted this or that departmental battle or academic freedom issue that would have turned out for the worse if Bobby had not been a key figure. For student visits, Kayla tended to keep herself in the background until Bobby looked tired or showed signs of another headache, at which point she suggested he rest. For his friends, many of whom she knew, she was the gracious hostess, pouring drinks and serving desserts. Anytime I heard only the television, I imagined them curled up together on the sofa and retreated downstairs.

On his second Wednesday evening, I was surprised to find Ayodele Ibazebo, a former student who was now an emergency room physician at Buffalo General. Visiting her parents in Nigeria when her favorite professor had been attacked, she had nevertheless learned of his hospitalization and sent texts and emails to express her concern. Now that she was back, he was the first person she wanted to see. A year and a half earlier, during my hospitalization for a gunshot wound, Kayla had met Dr. Ibazebo, who was about the same age as her daughter Alaila, a working actress in Manhattan. Now Kayla was happy to bring out a plate of fresh brownies and join the conversation. After one brownie, I excused myself.

“You have work to do,” Kayla said, gazing at me. “Do what you need to.”

I nodded.

On the way downstairs I ran into Sam Wingard on the way up from his ground floor rear apartment to see Bobby. Sam was older and heavier than Bobby and wore a drooping gray mustache and thick glasses. I seldom saw him in anything other than gray Dickey work clothes. Like my late father, he had worked in maintenance at Buffalo State College and had become friends with Bobby. After both had retired and Bobby had bought the twelve-unit building on Elmwood, he offered Sam a rent-free apartment to serve as building super.

“I been thinking,” Sam said. “After what happened to Drea and now to Bobby, it’s like this country is losin’ its damn mind.”

“I started her book,” I said. “You’ll get no argument from me.”

He chewed his lower lip for a second, looking down as if embarrassed. “If it’s not too much to ask, I was hopin’ you could kinda look after her when she’s here in town. I mean, she gets death threats regular so when she appears in public, her publisher hires security. Probably will when she’s here too, but she’s making lots of stops and giving lots of talks for this conference thing.” He swallowed. “With all she doin’, all she been through, I’d feel a whole lot better, G, if somebody I knew and trusted had her back. Can’t push out the other guys, of course, but you know this town and the kind of men who would go after her. I’ll pay you for your time. It’s just—”

“You got it, Sam,” I said. “Friend and family rate.”

“Friend and family rate?”

“A cup of Tim Horton’s coffee. Large.”

“All right, but you can’t do it all by yourself. I’ll pay for whoever’s got your back. I got enough saved for one or two guys. Two thousand.”

“Fair enough for a week’s work,” I said.

The next evening there was no noise at all at Bobby’s door. No Isaac Hayes, no Bill Withers singing “Use Me,” no violins. I felt safe unlocking the door. Bobby was sitting in his lumbar support desk chair. On the sofa across from him, forearms resting on knobby knees, was Jonah Landsburgh, one of Bobby’s oldest friends and the senior partner in Phoenix’s law firm. Both men glanced at me as I stepped inside. Then they returned their attention to the Renaissance chess set on the coffee table between them. After a few seconds, Jonah ran a hand through his shaggy white hair. “You got me boxed in,” he said, moving his knight. Then he looked at me. “I know you’re trying to find the guys who did this.”

“It was a random thing, Jonah. I already told you.” Bobby took the knight. “Check.”

I looked at Jonah. “Phoenix tell you that?”

He huffed in feigned indignation. “Phoenix didn’t have to tell me anything.” He moved his rook. “How long have I known you? Since you were a kid, right?”

“Mate,” Bobby said. “Leave Gideon alone and pay attention to your game.”

Ignoring Bobby, Jonah eased his lanky frame against the back of the couch, adjusting the sleeves of his rumpled pinstriped suit jacket. “G, how often have I read your face in a poker game?”

“Often enough,” I said.

“I know how to read you.”

“I’m not much of a poker player.”

“But you’re a hell of an investigator. I can read your face when you’re working too. Even when you’re in the moment, you get this distant look. You will find these bastards. You run into trouble, I want you to know the firm has your back all the way.”

“Thanks, Jonah. I know.” With a Jewish founder and senior partner, his Catholic niece serving as paralegal and office manager, a half-Japanese gay man as one junior partner, an Afro-Latina as the other, and me as one of their on-call investigators, Landsburgh, Falk, and Trinidad was a Rainbow Coalition among small law firms in Buffalo.

“I’d like to see those sons of bitches pay for—”

“Let it go!” Bobby snapped. “I don’t need Gideon to fight my battles.”

Jonah hesitated. “Sorry, Bobby. Bad enough anti-vaxxers cheapen the Holocaust by using the Star of David. But swastikas in the twenty-first century?” He began to reposition his pieces for another game. “Makes me glad Kathleen isn’t here for this leap backward.”

I found Kayla in the kitchen, wiping down the stainless steel appliance surfaces as the dishwasher thrummed and sloshed. Glasses sliding down her nose, she wore a pair of jeans and one of Bobby’s old weekend work shirts with the sleeves rolled up. She smiled when I kissed her reddish-brown cheek and offered me a cup of coffee. I said yes