I said, “Sure. Could have happened like that.”
But I was unconvinced.
I crouched down next to Millie’s body. I don’t normally talk to dead people, but this was an exception, and I didn’t care who heard me.
“I’m sorry, Millie. So sorry this happened to you.”
CHAPTER 60
YUKI WAS ENSCONCED in the snug green lady chair in front of the TV.
It was after nine. Two hours ago Brady had said he’d be bringing home Thai food for dinner. So where was he? He hadn’t called. He hadn’t answered his phone. Was he under some kind of siege? Had he fallen into the sack with a lady friend? Or had he just forgotten about her?
She was hungry and she was getting mad. It was becoming increasingly impossible to see him as the man “who loved her to death.”
Yuki went to the kitchen and threw together a mayo and Kraft Singles sandwich. She ate it over the sink, then returned to the living room and retook her chair. She stretched out her legs on the footstool, then logged back in to her ThinkPad, glancing at her other necessary work tools—pens, sticky pad, coffee, pretzel sticks, clicker, phone—arrayed on the lamp table to her left.
She was watching cable news out of the corner of her eye, while emptying her mailbox, when her phone vibrated. She shot her hand out to grab it and knocked over her mug. Milky coffee spread quickly across the table, over the edge, and onto her mother’s ancient carpet.
Yuki shouted, “Nanda,” Japanese for “What the hell?” and grabbed the phone. She barked into it, “Brady?” as she ran to the kitchen for a dish towel.
The voice said, “It’s Marc. I’ve been shot.”
She could hardly hear him.
“What? Marc? Where are you?”
“Uh. In an ambulance.”
She mopped up coffee while shouting over the wail of sirens in her ear, “Where were you shot? What’s your condition?”
“Two blocks from my apartment. I was crossing the street to the dry cleaner when I, like, fell down. I didn’t even hear anything.”
His voice faded out.
“Marc. Marc. Can you hear me?”
“I really hurt.”
“Where on your body were you shot?” Yuki asked.
“Right thigh. Paramedic said that the bullet went in and out the other side,” Marc said. “That’s what you call good fricking luck.”
“It sure is. Thank God you’re okay.”
He said, “It was dark, Yuki. If that bullet had hit my femoral artery, I would be dead now.” He laughed. “Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.”
Marc sounded hysterical. Yuki took her own voice down a couple of notches and said, “Where are they taking you?”
“Metro, right?”
She heard a woman’s voice saying, “We’re two minutes out.”
“My parents are going to meet me there,” Marc said.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay, that’s excellent. Marc, who did this?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone. My arms were full of laundry. Oh, shit. My laundry …”