Chapter 6 - The Bartender With Two Names
Nobody moved.
Jimmy's hand shook slightly.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not the gun.
Not the sweat shining on his forehead.
His hand.
I'd seen Jimmy carry six cocktail glasses on one tray without spilling a drop.
Now he couldn't hold a pistol steady.
"Jimmy?"
His eyes flickered toward me.
"Clara."
"Tell me this is a terrible joke."
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
I stared at him.
"You're going to need a better apology."
Matteo moved half a step in front of me.
Jimmy jerked the gun upward.
"Don't!"
Matteo stopped.
Leo stood in the hallway, hands slightly raised.
His expression had gone frighteningly calm.
"Jimmy," Leo said, "you don't want to do this."
Jimmy laughed bitterly.
"You don't know what I want."
"I know you're scared."
"Shut up."
I looked at the man I'd worked beside for almost three years.
The man who brought me coffee during double shifts.
Who knew my favorite chips.
Who always remembered my birthday.
"Did you set me up?" I asked.
His face crumpled.
"Clara, please."
"Did you?"
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The word hurt more than I expected.
I stepped forward.
Matteo touched my arm.
I shook him off.
"Why?"
Jimmy's eyes filled.
"Because they have my sister."
The room went quiet.
"Who does?"
"I don't know their real names."
"Then tell us what you do know," Matteo said.
Jimmy stared at him.
"You think I'm stupid?"
"No."
"You'll kill me."
"Not if you put down the gun."
Jimmy let out a broken laugh.
"Your father said the same thing to my father."
Matteo stiffened.
I looked between them.
"What?"
Jimmy pointed the gun at Matteo.
"My father's name was Samuel Morales."
Matteo's face hardened.
"Samuel worked at Hawthorne."
"He died there."
Silence.
Jimmy's voice cracked.
"Seventeen people burned alive, and your family bought silence."
Matteo didn't answer.
Jimmy's hand shook harder.
"They told me Clara had something they needed. They said if I got it, my sister would come home."
"The music box?" I asked.
He nodded.
"Did you take it?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
Jimmy looked toward the bedroom.
"I came here because they told me somebody else would get it."
I stared.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Matteo spoke quietly.
"Lower the gun."
Jimmy shook his head.
"I need a way out."
"You have one."
"No."
His voice rose.
"They told me your men would shoot me the second I talked."
Leo stepped forward.
"We're not shooting you."
Jimmy swung the weapon toward him.
"Stay back!"
I flinched.
Matteo moved instantly, placing himself between the gun and me.
Jimmy's eyes widened.
"Don't."
"Then put it down," Matteo said.
I could hear sirens somewhere outside.
Distant.
Approaching.
Jimmy heard them too.
"They called the cops."
"Who?" Leo asked.
"Whoever took the box."
His breathing became shallow.
"They said if I couldn't finish the job, the police would."
I stared.
"What job?"
Jimmy looked at me.
And the guilt in his face turned my blood cold.
"To make sure you didn't leave the Velvet Room alive."
My legs weakened.
"You helped them try to kill me?"
"I thought they'd cancel it!"
His voice broke.
"I thought if I got them close enough, they'd take the box and leave you alone."
"Jimmy."
"I'm sorry."
I took a shaky breath.
"You could've told me."
"They would've killed Rosa."
I frowned.
"Rosa?"
"My sister," he whispered. "Rosa Morales."
I glanced at Matteo.
Not the same Rosa living in his house.
A coincidence, maybe.
Or another cruel trick.
Matteo's voice remained steady.
"Jimmy, if you want your sister back, you need to trust me."
Jimmy stared at him.
"Why would I?"
"Because whoever hired you considers you disposable."
Jimmy looked at the pistol.
Then at me.
I stepped closer.
"Jimmy."
"Don't."
"I'm not going to pretend what you did is okay."
Tears ran down his face.
"I know."
"But your sister doesn't deserve to die for it."
His gun lowered an inch.
Then another.
Leo moved.
Fast.
He caught Jimmy's wrist, twisted the weapon away, and pushed him against the wall.
Jimmy cried out.
The gun hit the carpet.
I stumbled backward.
Matteo caught me before I fell.
For half a second, everything went quiet.
Then someone knocked on the apartment door.
Three sharp knocks.
A voice called out.
"Boston Police. Open up."
Leo looked toward Matteo.
Matteo looked at Jimmy.
Jimmy went white.
"Don't let them in."
The knocking became louder.
"Police!"
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
"Leo."
Leo touched his earpiece.
"Checking."
I stared at the door.
"Maybe they're real police."
Jimmy shook his head violently.
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because I heard them on the phone."
My mouth went dry.
Jimmy looked at Matteo.
"They said the police would take her."
"Who did?"
Jimmy swallowed.
Then whispered a name.
"Captain Patrick Sloane."
Matteo's face went completely still.
Leo stopped breathing.
And from the hallway came a voice that sounded calm, educated, and utterly certain.
"Mr. Conti, I'm Captain Sloane."
A pause.
"Open the door, or I'll have your little waitress arrested for the murder at the Velvet Room."
I froze.
Murder?
May you like
Someone had died.
And apparently, they were blaming me.
