time everything went down at the club. Gleason’s guess is she saw the cops and steered clear.”
“Obviously, not clear enough.” Derek’s brows knit. “Either someone in Lo Ma’s gang has a death wish, or whoever did this isn’t one of his. Because no one in his right mind would provoke Xiao Long right after his enforcer was in their face, threatening their lives.”
“My thoughts exactly. I expected Lo Ma’s guys to retaliate by smashing up one of Xiao Long’s gambling parlors. But to blatantly spit in his face by taking out another one of his girls—butchering her, no less—right after the fight at the club? Doubtful.”
“It seems to me we’re back to a third gang trying to start up a war for their own purposes.”
“Gleason said the same thing. His team is already investigating that angle.”
“Are they going to be able to minimize the collateral damage? Or do we have to get involved?”
Jeff sighed. “Not sure. The NYPD’s up to their asses in the murders. We might have to back them up to make sure Xiao Long gets the message before he orders any killings. So I wouldn’t make any hot plans if I were you.”
“Not a problem. The only hot plans I had were a shower and bed. I’ll be on standby all weekend.”
“Yeah; me, too. Which means I’m in the doghouse here.”
A corner of Derek’s mouth lifted. “It’s times like this I’m glad I’m single. Good luck wriggling your way out of the doghouse.”
Hunterdon County, New Jersey
9:40 P.M.
Sloane dropped her bag off at home, then drove directly to the Wagners’ house to relieve Elsa and Burt of their three frolicking charges. She called ahead, although she knew Elsa would be awake for her evening ritual of ten o’clock tea and biscuits.
It took her several minutes, door-to-door, to get to the Wagners’ house, a fact that Sloane always found amusing. The term next-door neighbors was a misnomer in their case. In truth, the two houses were set far back from the road and separated by six wooded acres.
Elsa greeted Sloane at the door, drying her hands on a dish towel. She was a round woman with white hair, black eyes, and a sharp nose who looked a lot like Frosty the Snowman, except when she smiled. Her smile was warm, as was her heart. She’d been a widow for decades, and the strain of running the house alone, not to mention the loneliness, was starting to take its toll. She was aging. She looked weary, the lines around her eyes and mouth more prominent than ever before, her step more unsteady. Which was why having her son around was a blessing, despite Elsa’s sadness over his failed marriage.
Now she beckoned for Sloane to come inside. “You didn’t have to rush over here tonight,” she scolded. “Like I said on the phone, the hounds are playing tug-of-war with Princess Di and Burt in the rec room. You could have gotten a good night’s sleep and dropped by in the morning.”
“I know, but I missed my little troublemakers,” Sloane replied, stepping inside with a rueful grin. “And as long as you were still awake…”
“I was making our tea. Now you can join us.” She gave a little shiver as a blast of night air whisked through the front hall. Hastily, she shut the door, rubbing warmth back into her arms. “Brrr. I’m getting old. The calendar says it’s spring. But to me, it’s still winter.”
“Age has nothing to do with it,” Sloane assured her, wincing as she pulled off her gloves. “My hand is killing me. If March plans to go out like a lamb, it better hurry up and do a one-eighty.”
At that moment, an outbreak of barking erupted from the rear of the house, followed by the skidding and scuffing of padded paws as the dogs raced across hardwood floors.
“I think your trio knows you’re here,” Elsa said with a chuckle. “You say your hellos. I’ll get the tea and biscuits ready—for us,
and
for the dogs. They get special treats, too. My ten o’clock ritual has become quite the event.” On that
“Obviously, not clear enough.” Derek’s brows knit. “Either someone in Lo Ma’s gang has a death wish, or whoever did this isn’t one of his. Because no one in his right mind would provoke Xiao Long right after his enforcer was in their face, threatening their lives.”
“My thoughts exactly. I expected Lo Ma’s guys to retaliate by smashing up one of Xiao Long’s gambling parlors. But to blatantly spit in his face by taking out another one of his girls—butchering her, no less—right after the fight at the club? Doubtful.”
“It seems to me we’re back to a third gang trying to start up a war for their own purposes.”
“Gleason said the same thing. His team is already investigating that angle.”
“Are they going to be able to minimize the collateral damage? Or do we have to get involved?”
Jeff sighed. “Not sure. The NYPD’s up to their asses in the murders. We might have to back them up to make sure Xiao Long gets the message before he orders any killings. So I wouldn’t make any hot plans if I were you.”
“Not a problem. The only hot plans I had were a shower and bed. I’ll be on standby all weekend.”
“Yeah; me, too. Which means I’m in the doghouse here.”
A corner of Derek’s mouth lifted. “It’s times like this I’m glad I’m single. Good luck wriggling your way out of the doghouse.”
Hunterdon County, New Jersey
9:40 P.M.
Sloane dropped her bag off at home, then drove directly to the Wagners’ house to relieve Elsa and Burt of their three frolicking charges. She called ahead, although she knew Elsa would be awake for her evening ritual of ten o’clock tea and biscuits.
It took her several minutes, door-to-door, to get to the Wagners’ house, a fact that Sloane always found amusing. The term next-door neighbors was a misnomer in their case. In truth, the two houses were set far back from the road and separated by six wooded acres.
Elsa greeted Sloane at the door, drying her hands on a dish towel. She was a round woman with white hair, black eyes, and a sharp nose who looked a lot like Frosty the Snowman, except when she smiled. Her smile was warm, as was her heart. She’d been a widow for decades, and the strain of running the house alone, not to mention the loneliness, was starting to take its toll. She was aging. She looked weary, the lines around her eyes and mouth more prominent than ever before, her step more unsteady. Which was why having her son around was a blessing, despite Elsa’s sadness over his failed marriage.
Now she beckoned for Sloane to come inside. “You didn’t have to rush over here tonight,” she scolded. “Like I said on the phone, the hounds are playing tug-of-war with Princess Di and Burt in the rec room. You could have gotten a good night’s sleep and dropped by in the morning.”
“I know, but I missed my little troublemakers,” Sloane replied, stepping inside with a rueful grin. “And as long as you were still awake…”
“I was making our tea. Now you can join us.” She gave a little shiver as a blast of night air whisked through the front hall. Hastily, she shut the door, rubbing warmth back into her arms. “Brrr. I’m getting old. The calendar says it’s spring. But to me, it’s still winter.”
“Age has nothing to do with it,” Sloane assured her, wincing as she pulled off her gloves. “My hand is killing me. If March plans to go out like a lamb, it better hurry up and do a one-eighty.”
At that moment, an outbreak of barking erupted from the rear of the house, followed by the skidding and scuffing of padded paws as the dogs raced across hardwood floors.
“I think your trio knows you’re here,” Elsa said with a chuckle. “You say your hellos. I’ll get the tea and biscuits ready—for us,
and
for the dogs. They get special treats, too. My ten o’clock ritual has become quite the event.” On that
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