addressed
Cat. “Was Jeremy hit?”
“No. He dropped
the bike, but he got right up and took off on foot.”
“Where did he
go?”
“No one saw.”
“How many shots
were fired?”
“Three. A triple tap.”
Johnny thought
about that but said nothing.
“The thing is,”
Fiermonte said, “according to the witnesses, the shots were loud.”
“The gun I saw
was fitted with a suppressor.”
“And yet the
witnesses insist they heard gunshots.”
“That doesn’t
make sense,” Johnny said.
Cat nodded. “It
doesn’t make sense to us, either.”
From behind Johnny,
McVicker spoke. “I can think of a reason why someone would do that.”
All eyes went to
him.
“The shooter
wanted his shots to be heard,” he said.
Fiermonte
scowled. “This guy has the markings of a pro, Dickey. The triple tap, the
equipment he carried. Delancey Street isn’t exactly deserted, even at one in
the morning. Why would he want witnesses to hear the shots?”
“I didn’t say anything
about the witnesses.” He paused, then: “The bike Jeremy took off on was a Ducati
Monster. The engine is an 1100 V-twin, and exhaust looked to me like a Leo
Vince. That’s an open exhaust. And the catalytic converter was missing from the
header pipe, so that means it’s an aftermarket racing pipe, probably has ‘for
track use only’ stamped somewhere on it. All of this adds up to that being a very
loud bike. Particularly to the person sitting on it.”
“He wanted Jeremy
to hear the shots,” Cat said.
Fiermonte was
still scowling. “Why would he want that?”
“The first time
someone fired shots at me,” McVicker said, “I ran. I’d never run so fast in my
life.” He looked at Johnny. “They used live ammo during your training, right? Fired
it over your heads, to get you used to it. Weren’t you scared the first time?”
Johnny nodded.
“Yeah.”
“And let’s not
forget what we just saw on that video. The man was chasing Jeremy with his
weapon drawn and ready. He could have taken a shot while Jeremy was getting on
the bike, would have been shooting a stationary target and not a moving one, but
he didn’t. He waited till Jeremy was speeding away before firing.”
“But what would
he gain by doing that?” Cat asked. “Why would he want to scare Jeremy?”
“That’s the
question, isn’t it?” McVicker said.
“Send him
running?” Fiermonte suggested, speaking to the group. “Scare him off, get him
to quit whatever he’s up to.”
McVicker
shrugged. “Maybe. Or the opposite of that.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Drive him in a
direction you want him to go. Scare him enough that he does something you want
him to do.” He paused. “Or goes tosomeone you want him to go to.”
No one spoke for
a long moment.
Finally, Cat turned
to Fiermonte, looked at him as if asking for his permission. He nodded, and Cat
said to her brother, “Donnie thinks Jeremy might be up to something.”
“What does that
mean?”
“I think it has
something to do with your father,” Fiermonte said.
“Why would you
think that?”
Fiermonte glanced
at the man standing behind Johnny, hesitated, then looked at Johnny again and
said, “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
Cat knew
Fiermonte’s mind well enough to know what he was thinking.
The less McVicker
knew, the better.
But she also knew
Johnny, so she wasn’t at all surprised by his reply.
“You’re going to
have to tell me what those reasons are.”
Fiermonte
hesitated again, glanced at McVicker, then said, “He called me about a month
ago, said he had remembered some things about the night your father was killed.”
“What things?”
“He wouldn’t say.
He sounded kind of out there. Manic.” Fiermonte shrugged. “Paranoid, even.”
Cat said, “And last
night he left a note with what might be clues on it. I think he left it for me
to find.”
“What kind of
clues?”
“A phone number. We
did a reverse look up, and it’s his cell phone. I’ve tried
Cat. “Was Jeremy hit?”
“No. He dropped
the bike, but he got right up and took off on foot.”
“Where did he
go?”
“No one saw.”
“How many shots
were fired?”
“Three. A triple tap.”
Johnny thought
about that but said nothing.
“The thing is,”
Fiermonte said, “according to the witnesses, the shots were loud.”
“The gun I saw
was fitted with a suppressor.”
“And yet the
witnesses insist they heard gunshots.”
“That doesn’t
make sense,” Johnny said.
Cat nodded. “It
doesn’t make sense to us, either.”
From behind Johnny,
McVicker spoke. “I can think of a reason why someone would do that.”
All eyes went to
him.
“The shooter
wanted his shots to be heard,” he said.
Fiermonte
scowled. “This guy has the markings of a pro, Dickey. The triple tap, the
equipment he carried. Delancey Street isn’t exactly deserted, even at one in
the morning. Why would he want witnesses to hear the shots?”
“I didn’t say anything
about the witnesses.” He paused, then: “The bike Jeremy took off on was a Ducati
Monster. The engine is an 1100 V-twin, and exhaust looked to me like a Leo
Vince. That’s an open exhaust. And the catalytic converter was missing from the
header pipe, so that means it’s an aftermarket racing pipe, probably has ‘for
track use only’ stamped somewhere on it. All of this adds up to that being a very
loud bike. Particularly to the person sitting on it.”
“He wanted Jeremy
to hear the shots,” Cat said.
Fiermonte was
still scowling. “Why would he want that?”
“The first time
someone fired shots at me,” McVicker said, “I ran. I’d never run so fast in my
life.” He looked at Johnny. “They used live ammo during your training, right? Fired
it over your heads, to get you used to it. Weren’t you scared the first time?”
Johnny nodded.
“Yeah.”
“And let’s not
forget what we just saw on that video. The man was chasing Jeremy with his
weapon drawn and ready. He could have taken a shot while Jeremy was getting on
the bike, would have been shooting a stationary target and not a moving one, but
he didn’t. He waited till Jeremy was speeding away before firing.”
“But what would
he gain by doing that?” Cat asked. “Why would he want to scare Jeremy?”
“That’s the
question, isn’t it?” McVicker said.
“Send him
running?” Fiermonte suggested, speaking to the group. “Scare him off, get him
to quit whatever he’s up to.”
McVicker
shrugged. “Maybe. Or the opposite of that.”
“What do you
mean?”
“Drive him in a
direction you want him to go. Scare him enough that he does something you want
him to do.” He paused. “Or goes tosomeone you want him to go to.”
No one spoke for
a long moment.
Finally, Cat turned
to Fiermonte, looked at him as if asking for his permission. He nodded, and Cat
said to her brother, “Donnie thinks Jeremy might be up to something.”
“What does that
mean?”
“I think it has
something to do with your father,” Fiermonte said.
“Why would you
think that?”
Fiermonte glanced
at the man standing behind Johnny, hesitated, then looked at Johnny again and
said, “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
Cat knew
Fiermonte’s mind well enough to know what he was thinking.
The less McVicker
knew, the better.
But she also knew
Johnny, so she wasn’t at all surprised by his reply.
“You’re going to
have to tell me what those reasons are.”
Fiermonte
hesitated again, glanced at McVicker, then said, “He called me about a month
ago, said he had remembered some things about the night your father was killed.”
“What things?”
“He wouldn’t say.
He sounded kind of out there. Manic.” Fiermonte shrugged. “Paranoid, even.”
Cat said, “And last
night he left a note with what might be clues on it. I think he left it for me
to find.”
“What kind of
clues?”
“A phone number. We
did a reverse look up, and it’s his cell phone. I’ve tried
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