He Sees You When You're Sleeping Page 11

  “We gotta find them. I took the next step. I called a certain hit man.”

  Eddie looked at Junior. “Not Igor?”

  “Yes, Igor,” Junior said. “He’s very good at what he does. I told him the only lead we have so far is that they’re somewhere out West.”

  “Here I am,” Jewel chirped as she slid into the banquette and kissed Junior’s cheek. “I’ve forgiven you both for not appreciating all I do to make Mama Heddy-Anna happy and comfortable, and I have to tell you something. I think you should figure out a way to go visit your mama in person, and you should do it before it’s too late.”

  Junior glared at her. “Drop it.”

  The waiter appeared with a tray of appetizers.

  I’ve learned what I needed to know, Sterling thought. The Badgett brothers are determined to track down Nor and Billy and make sure they don’t live to testify against them.

  Sterling decided to take a long walk before he made a request to be transported somewhere else. An hour later, he had made his decision. He closed his eyes and whispered, I’d like it to be midsummer, and may I please get together with Nor and Billy?

  Surely they’re not staying here, Sterling thought, dismayed. He was standing on the second-floor balcony of a rundown motel directly off a busy highway. Although it was blazing hot, the area was beautiful. Like Mama Heddy-Anna’s village, the landscape boasted magnificent mountain views.

  Of the six vehicles parked outside the motel, four had Colorado plates.

  He noticed a heavyset man with dark glasses sitting in an SUV. It seemed to Sterling that the man was staring at his rearview mirror, watching the door directly behind him.

  Sterling turned and peeked in the window. Billy was standing inside the shabby room, hands in pockets. He was looking at Nor, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, a phone in her hand.

  They looked different. Nor’s blond hair was medium brown, and she wore it in a prim knot at the nape of her neck. Billy had a beard, and his dark hair was cut much shorter.

  Maybe this is where they make their calls home, Sterling thought. If they’re in the Witness Protection Program, they can only phone from secured lines. They both look worried sick.

  He went inside, and taking off his homburg, put his ear to the receiver. I’m getting good at eavesdropping, he thought. He heard a familiar voice at the other end of the line and realized that Nor was talking to Dennis.

  “Nor, I don’t have to tell you that this place is all about you,” Dennis was saying. “Sure, I can do drinks, and the guys are good waiters, and Al is the best chef we’ve ever had, but that’s not good enough. When the customers come in, they want to see you at your table.”

  “I know. How big a loss this month?”

  “Very big. We’re not a quarter full for dinners, even on Saturdays.”

  “Which means, of course, that the waiters’ tips are way down,” Nor said, “Look, Dennis, this can’t last much longer. The minute the trial is over and the Badgetts are in prison, we’ll be able to come home. Figure out how much in tips the guys are losing, and let’s make up half of it to them in their paychecks.”

  “Nor, maybe you didn’t hear me. You’re losing money hand over fist as it is.”

  “And maybe you didn’t hear me,” Nor flared. “I know the restaurant needs me to be there. But you and Al and the waiters and the kitchen help and the cleanup crew are all part of what make it work. It took me years to put together such a good team, and I’m not going to lose it now.”

  “Take it easy, Nor, I’m just trying to help you keep your head above water with this place.”

  “I’m sorry, Dennis,” Nor said contritely. “This whole business is grinding me down.”

  “How’s Billy?”

  “How do you think? He just called Marissa and the recording company. Marissa absolutely refuses to talk to him-or to me either for that matter-and the recording company told him that unless this is over soon, they’ll have to cancel his contract.”

  There was silence, then Nor said, “Dennis, you know that impressionist painting near the fireplace in my living room?”

  “The pain-by-numbers one?”

  It was an old joke between them.

  “Yes. You have power of attorney. Go to my safe-deposit box and get the papers on it. Take everything to the Reuben Gallery. I know they’ll make an offer on it. It should be worth at least sixty thousand dollars. That will help.”

  “You love that painting, Nor.”

  “Not as much as I love my restaurant. Okay, Dennis, I guess that’s all the good news I can handle at one time. I’ll talk to you in about two weeks.”

  “Sure, Nor. Hang in there.”

  Her next call was to Sean O’Brien to see if there was any word about the trial date. There wasn’t.

  They left the motel room in silence, went down the steps to the parking area, and got into the SUV in which the man in dark glasses was sitting. He’s got to be the federal marshal who looks out for them, Sterling decided.

  He rode in the backseat with Nor. Not a word was exchanged on the twenty-minute drive. He spotted a road sign that indicated Denver was thirty miles away. I know exactly where we are, he thought. The Air Force Academy is near here.

  Billy and Nor were living in a run-of-the-mill bi-level house, the sole virtue of which, at least as far as Sterling could tell, was its location. It was set on a large piece of property, shaded by tall trees that afforded privacy.

  When the car stopped, Billy turned to the marshal. “Frank, come inside please. I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Sure.”

  The living room furniture looked as if it had been purchased at the auction of a bankrupt motel: Naugahyde sofa and chairs, mismatched Formica coffee and end tables, burnt-orange wall-to-wall carpeting. A groaning air conditioner labored to pump in cool air.

  Sterling could pick out Nor’s attempts to make the room livable. Tasteful framed prints drew the eye away from the hideous furnishings. A vase of black-eyed susans and several large green plants helped alleviate the depressing atmosphere.

  The living room opened into what was meant to be a dining area. Billy had turned it into a music room, furnishing it with a scarred upright piano piled with sheet music, a CD player, and shelves of CDs. His guitar rested on a club chair near the piano.

  “What can I do for you, Billy?” the marshal asked.

  “You can help us pack. I’m not staying here another night. I’ve had it.”

  “Billy, this is not Frank’s fault,” Nor said, hoping to placate him.

  “For all we know, this trial will never happen. Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life rotting in this house? Frank, let me explain something to you. I turned thirty years old last week. In the music business that’s old, you understand? It’s old. The ones who make it these days, start at seventeen, even younger.”

  “Billy, calm down,” Nor begged.

  “I can’t calm down, Mom. Marissa is growing up without us. She’s growing up hating me. Every time I talk to Denise she tells me how worried she is about Rissa, and she’s right. I’m taking my chances. If anything happens to me, at least it will happen while I’m living my own life.”

  “Listen, Billy,” the marshal interrupted. “I know how frustrating this is for you and for your mother. You’re not the first one in this program who’s gone crazy. But you are in real danger. We have ways of finding out things. There was no reason to tell you this before, but there’s been a contract on you and your mother since January. And when the Badgetts’ personal goons couldn’t find you, they hired a hitman.”

  Nor paled. “When did they hire him?”

  “Three months ago. We know who he is and our men are looking for him. Now, do you still want me to help you pack?”

  The fire went out of Billy. “I guess not.” He walked over and sat at the piano. “I guess I’ll just keep writing music that somebody else will have the chance to sing.”

  The marshal nodded to Nor and left. After a fe
w moments, Nor went over to Billy and put her hands on his shoulders. “This really won’t last forever, you know.”

  “It’s hell on earth.”

  “I agree.”

  I do too, Sterling thought. But what do I do about it? The more he learned about the problem, the less he felt able to solve it.

  With a sympathetic glance at Nor and Billy, he went outside. I’m used to the altitude in the heavens, but not in Colorado, he thought, feeling a little light-headed.

  It’s hard to believe that Nor and Billy will still be here in December. I can only imagine the emotional state they’ll be in by then. Where else can I go? What can I do? Everything hinges on the trial. Maybe I should drop in on the Badgetts’ legal counselor. After all, he was the one who saw Billy and Nor coming out of Junior’s office.

  I’ll be glad to get out of this heat, Sterling decided as he closed his eyes. Summer was always my least favorite season.

  Once more he addressed the Heavenly Council. May I please be transported into the presence of Charlie Santoli, and may it please be in early December? Amen, he added.

  “We should have put the lights up at least a week ago,” Marge commented as she unrolled another string of bulbs and handed them to Charlie, who was standing on a ladder outside their living room window.

  “I’ve been too busy, Marge. I just couldn’t get to it.” Charlie managed to loop the string over the top of the evergreen, which had grown considerably taller since last year. “You know, there are people we can pay to do this. They have higher ladders, they’re younger, they’re stronger, and they could do a better job.”

  “Oh, but then we’d miss out on all the fun, Charlie. We’ve been doing this together for forty years. The time will come when you really can’t do it, and then you’ll wish you could. Admit it. You love this ritual.”

  Charlie smiled reluctantly. “If you say so.”

  Sterling sat on the steps observing the couple. He really is enjoying himself. He’s a family man, he thought.

  An hour later, chilled but pleased with themselves, Marge and Charlie went into the house, shed their coats and gloves, and gravitated to the kitchen for a cup of tea. When the teapot and freshly baked Christmas cookies were in front of them, Marge dropped her bombshell.

  “I want you to quit that job with the Badgett brothers, Charlie, and I want you to quit it tomorrow morning.”

  “Marge, are you out of your mind? I can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you can. We’re not rich, God knows, but we’ve got enough to live on. If you want to keep working, put out your shingle again and do house closings and wills. But I’m not putting up with watching you build to a heart attack working for the Badgetts for another day.”

  “Marge, you don’t understand-I can’t quit,” Charlie said desperately.

  “Why not? If you drop dead, they’ll get a new lawyer, won’t they?”

  “Marge, it’s not that. It’s… please, let’s just forget it.”

  Marge stood up and placed both hands firmly on the table. “Then what is it?” she asked, her voice rising with every word. “Charlie, I want the truth. What’s going on?”

  Sterling listened as Charlie, at first hesitantly, then in a rush of words, confessed to his wife that over the years he had been sucked into making threats to people who stood in the way of the Badgetts. He watched Marge’s reaction change from horrified shock to deep concern as she came to realize how emotionally tortured her husband had been for years.

  “The trial I’ve been getting postponed has to do with the warehouse fire near Syosset last year. The singers hired for that Mama Heddy-Anna birthday party overheard Junior giving the order to have it torched. The word on the street is that the entertainers are working in Europe, but the truth is they’re in protective custody.”

  So that’s the story that’s been circulated about Nor and Billy, Sterling thought.

  “Why do you want the trial postponed?”

  “We bribed experts who will swear the fire was caused by exposed wires. Hans Kramer, the guy who owned the warehouse, disappeared, but the brothers found out last month that he and his wife are living in Switzerland. They’ve got family there, and after what happened, Kramer doesn’t want to tangle with the Badgetts.”

  “You haven’t answered my question, Charlie.”

  “Marge, I’m not the one who wants the postponements. The Badgetts want them.”

  “Why?” She looked straight into his eyes.

  “Because they don’t want the trial to start until Nor Kelly and Billy Campbell are silenced for good.”

  “And you’re going along with that?” she asked incredulously.

  “They may not find them.”

  “And they may find them. Charlie, you can’t let that happen!”

  “I know I can’t,” he burst out. “But I don’t know what to do. You must realize that the minute I go to the feds, the Badgetts will know it. They have a way of finding out those things.”

  Marge began to cry. “How did this happen? Charlie, no matter what the consequences for us, you have to do the right thing. Just wait a few more days until Christmas is over. Let’s have one more Christmas when we know we’ll all be together.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll pray for a miracle.”

  Charlie stood up and wrapped his wife in his arms. “Well, when you say your prayers, be more specific,” he said with a tired smile. “Pray for a way to make Junior and Eddie visit Mama Heddy-Anna in the old country. I can have the cops ready to nab them the minute they set foot on Wallonian soil. Then we’d all be in the clear.”

  Marge looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

  “They’ve been tried in absentia for the crimes they committed over there and both got life sentences. That’s why they can never go back.”

  Life sentences! Sterling thought. At last he understood what he had to get done. The only question was how to do it.

  Sterling went outside. Marge had turned on the Christmas lights as soon as Charlie finished hanging them. The weather was changing, and the late afternoon sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds. The multicolored bulbs on the evergreen twinkled cheerily, helping to dispel the growing gloom of the winter day.

  Suddenly, like a gift, Sterling remembered something he had overheard at Mama Heddy-Anna’s lunch table. It’s possible, he thought, it’s possible. A plan to get the brothers back to the old country began forming in his mind.

  It was a long shot, but it just might work!

  “ Sterling, it looks as if you’ve been doing your homework,” the nun said approvingly.

  “You’re quite the world traveler,” the admiral boomed.

  “We were surprised that you went back to Wallonia,” the monk told him, “but then we got an inkling of what you were up to. That was my old monastery, you know. I lived there fourteen hundred years ago. Hard to believe it’s being turned into a hotel. I can’t imagine that place having room service.”

  “I can understand that, sir,” Sterling agreed, “but for our purposes it may be most fortuitous. I think I have at last found a way to help Marissa and Nor and Billy, and maybe even Charlie. He needs my help as much as Marissa does, but in a different way.”

  He squared his shoulders and looked into one face after the other. “I request permission to appear to Charlie so that he can work with me on solving the problems.”

  “Do you mean to appear as you did to Marissa, who understood you were not of her world?” the shepherd inquired.

  “Yes. I think that’s necessary.”

  “Perhaps you’d better plan to become visible to Marge as well,” the queen suggested. “Something tells me she rules the roost in that family.”

  “I was afraid to push the envelope and ask to meet her,” Sterling admitted with a smile. “It would be wonderful if I could communicate with both of them.”

  “Push the envelope?” The matador’s eyebrows raised. “That expression wasn’t in vogue when you were alive.”

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sp; “I know. But I heard it somewhere. Maybe in Nor’s restaurant. I kind of like it.” He stood up. “According to the earthly calendar, tomorrow will be the day when I first met Marissa. I’ve come full circle.”

  “Don’t forget, it was also the day you first appeared before us,” the Native American saint teased.

  “That, I assure you, I’ll never forget.”

  “Go forward with our blessing,” the monk told him. “But remember-Christmas Day, which you hope to celebrate in heaven, is drawing very near.”

  Marissa opened the door of her room and was delighted to see Sterling sitting in the big chair by the desk. “I thought you were going away and would come back to say good night,” she said.

  “I did go away,” he explained. “I took a look at the whole last year of your life when you were down at dinner and understand now why Daddy and NorNor had to leave.”

  “But I’ve only been downstairs for an hour!”

  “Time is different for me,” Sterling said.

  “I kept thinking about you. I ate fast, then got stuck listening to Roy tell his boring story about Christmas when he was a little boy and was one of the shepherds in the school play. I got away as fast as I could. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Well, I learned a lot while you were at dinner. I’m going to have to leave now because I’m going to be very busy trying to get your daddy and NorNor back for your birthday.”

  “That’s Christmas Eve,” she reminded him quickly. “I’ll be eight years old.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “That’s only four days from now.”

  Sterling saw skepticism mixed with hope in Marissa’s eyes. “You can help me,” he told her.

  “How?”

  “Say a few prayers.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “And be nice to Roy.”

  “It isn’t easy.” Her whole personna changed, and her voice deepened. “‘I remember the time when… blah, blah, blah.’ ”

  “Marissa,” Sterling cautioned, with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I knowwwwww… ” she said. “ Roy ’s all right, I suppose.”

  Sterling stood, relishing the momentary lightheartedness he saw in Marissa’s eyes. It was an instant reminder of the first time he had seen her with Billy and Nor. I cannot fail her, he thought. It was both a prayer and a vow.