Here Comes the Sun
David and the Lion’s Den, chapter 27
As the subway car screeched through the 14th Street station, Richard’s words echoed in my head. “Howie needs you.”
What the fuck? I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.
I’d been OK at Cucina the night before. It was nice to see everybody again, once I got over their sidelong glances, evaluating stares, and carefully neutral expressions.
Jill told me to stop being paranoid.
It had been really good to see Raph. Surprisingly good. Jill never liked him, so maybe my conflicted attitude toward him had always been flavored by her annoyance. She’d been joking around with him, though, when I burst through the door all wet, freezing, and spluttering with anger.
He laughed as I toweled off my hair, handing me the stiff scotch Jill poured without asking. Dinner was barely starting, so he didn’t have much to do yet. Adrenaline from my icy gutter shower flooded my blood and powered my mouth. My teeth chattered as I complained and poured out my troubles on the bar for Jill to mop up with with efficient swipes of the white cotton cloth draped over one arm.
I bitched about my legal case and raged about Howie. “How fucking dare he poison desserts! Cannoli, for Christ’s sake! Fucking asshole!”
Jill clucked and soothed. Raph stared at me, serious and wide eyed. He put his hand on my arm as I was winding down. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but snapped closed when Claudia yelled at him to hurry and bus a table. He squeezed my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “I talk to you later, OK? Wait for me. It’s important.”
I had a couple more drinks with Jill, nodded politely to Alonzo when he came upstairs for a few minutes, apparently not upset that I was at the bar. I sort of waited around for Raph, but he stayed downstairs and I got too drunk too fast.
The company was just what I needed, though. I knew I’d be back soon and see Raphael again. I’d ask him out dancing at the Limelight. We’d have a blast. Just the two of us being friends. I was ready to accept the whole Howie thing. I was ready to move on. Live my life.
But what now? Why had Jill ditched me this morning, and why was I rushing to Cucina again? As the train jerked to a halt at Sheridan Square, I realized that whatever my friends were going through, I could handle it. I could be there for them.
I was still grieving, but I felt light and full of air. A terrible chapter in my life was closing. A new one was opening. As I climbed the steps up to street level, I could even see a bright sun battling through the rain-swollen clouds that had cast such cold shadows over the past few days. I warmed myself in yellow light as I walked up Christopher and turned onto Bleecker. I was whistling as I pushed open the door into Cucina.
Richard had beat me there, or I guess I should say Carla had. Neither she nor Jill spotted me at first. They perched on bar stools, leaning into each other, noses inches apart, backs to me.
“Hey, guys! What’s up?”
Jill’s head snapped around at the sound of my voice. Carla pivoted more deliberately.
“What’s with the getup, Carla? It’s barely past noon. A little early for all that, isn’t it?”
“Believe it or not, Cookie, lunch dates happen. I was getting ready when Jill called.”
“Oh. So, anyway. What’s with having me run down here? Something going on?”
I didn’t realize how white Jill’s face was until she started to speak. She rasped out a sentence at barely over a whisper. “Let’s move over to that corner table. Privacy.”
My sunny mood cooled. I took her arm as we walked toward the shadowy corner. It was trembling. “What’s the matter?” I hissed as we slipped into seats. I glanced around furtively and discovered we were the only customers upstairs. Claudia was soaping up glasses behind the bar while some woman I’d never met twiddled her hair behind the reservations station.
Jill picked up a drinks menu and shielded her face with it. “God damn it!” she cursed in a strained whisper directed at Carla. “He was supposed to be back by now.”
“Relax, honey,” drawled the tall dominatrix. “And put that menu down. You look like you’re hiding. He’ll be here when he gets here. In the meantime, if you don’t want us getting caught, you need to stop acting guilty.”
I was beyond agog.
Why the hell were my friends acting like criminals? “Would you two mind tell me what’s going on?”
“Keep your voice down!” Jill snapped.
So, I looked at Carla and shrugged, palms up in silent appeal. I recoiled at the hard expression that flashed out from under all those coats of makeup.
“All right, look,” Jill whispered. “After you left last night, shit got really weird. Raphael …”
Carla barked an interruption. “David, everything’s changed. Jill just got back from seeing Howie.”
“But why?”
“Raph was desperate to talk to you last night,” Jill explained. “He ran back upstairs right after you left. Said he knew something really important about the murders.”
“What the fuck? Seriously? What? What was it?”
“He wouldn’t say. He was so emotional. I’ve never seen him cry before. I didn’t think the little shit had it in him. He told me I had to see Howie in the morning and ask him one question.”
Carla held up a white-gloved hand. “There he is!”
I looked over my shoulder to see the Colombian busboy climbing the last of the winding stairs. As he strode over to us, I saw his lips were pursed white, eyes burning with black flame.
“So, what was the question?” I demanded of Jill as Raphael stepped up beside me. I could hear his ragged breathing just over my ear. Nobody said a word.
“Does somebody wanna clue me in, please?” I snapped.
“I told her,” Raphael enunciated sadly, voice barely audible, “to ask Howie where he got the cannoli.”
“But why? How do you even know about it?”
“When you came in all wet last night, you were pissed, man, and your tongue, she was loose. No?”
I remembered how Jill and I discussed the whole case while Raph hung out with us.
“I wanted to tell you right away,” Raph apologized, “but Claudia, she needed me downstairs, and I didn’t know you were leaving so soon.”
“But who cares where he got them? Jesus, man. He either took some off the dessert cart or he grabbed a tray out of the kitchen. What difference does it make?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Jill moaned. “Then I got back a few minutes ago and told Raphael what Howie said. He lost it.”
“I can’t believe it,” Raph growled. “That anybody could be so fucking loco.” His face screwed up in a a red grimace.
“OK,” Carla interrupted. “Everything under control, Raph? Did you get it done?”
“Si,” he replied grimly. “He is very angry. We have to hurry.”
“David, amigo,” said the boy, turning to me. “Howie didn’t just take the cannoli. That’s what I needed Jill to make sure of. He asked for them. He asked for them as Cucina’s official donation.”
A sliver of understanding pierced the fog for me. Raph looked so scared!
“Your story last night made me remember something strange,” he said. “Something bad.” He took a deep breath and looked at each of us in turn. “You ready? Come on.”
Jill and Carla nodded and stood, but I needed to know more. “Ready for what?” I snapped, exasperated.
Carla placed a white-gloved hand too heavily on my shoulder. “Ready to hear a confession, Cookie,” she rasped. “Jill and I are witnesses to back up the boy. “Let’s go.”
She pushed me toward the stairs, all the while keeping a painful lock on my shoulder. We filed past the reservations desk and down the ornate steps, skirting around the baroque fountain to follow Raphael back towards the kitchen. I started to speak a couple times, but Carla shushed me, hissing into my ear.
“You can ask questions later. Right now you need to be quiet and listen. For a change.”
Raph stopped right in front of the double-wide door that opened up onto the cave, the building’s rough-hewn stone storage room of a basement. “OK,” he whispered. “Stay very, very quiet after I open the door. Me, I make much noise on the stairs. You come down to the bottom, but not in. No noise. Let him think I’m alone.”
Carla bent down and removed her stilettos.
I spoke up. “Let who think?”
“Shh!” Raph cautioned. I tricked him into a storage cage and locked it. This door is thick but when I open it, he can hear you.”
I sucked in air so hard over my teeth that I startled everyone with a sharp whistle. “Sorry!” I stammered.
“Trust me,” Raph insisted. Carla’s iron grip tightened. The busboy’s black eyes bored into mine. Determination shone on his face, but I could smell his fear as I nodded.
My heart sped up as the kid pushed the door open, antique iron hinges squealing as he put his shoulder into it.
