Craig Johnson - Kindness Goes Unpunished

A writer, like a sheriff, is the embodiment of a group of people and, without their support, both are in a tight spot. I have been blessed with a close order of family, friends, and associates who have made this book possible.

I have the usual posse to thank, and a few new deputies that came along for the ride. Thanks to Gail Hochman for pulling out the jail bars. Kathryn Court, Ali Bothwell Mancini, Clare Ferraro, and Sonya Cheuse at Viking/Penguin for having the horses saddled, Susan Fain, Joel Katz, and Richard Rhoades for the cover fire, and to all the Troianos for the spaghetti westerns.

Thanks to Mandy Smoker Broaddus for use of her poetry from her book Another Attempt at Rescue (Hanging Loose Press), and to Marcus Red Thunder and Henry Standing Bear for cutting the telegraph lines. Eric Boss for selling the snake-oil, Neil McMahon, Bill Fitzhugh, and Christopher Moore for baking the cake with the file, Margaret Coel for the Derringer in her garter belt, and to Tony Hillerman for the pardon from the governor.

Thanks to Jim Pauley and the City of Philadelphia Police Department Public Affairs Office, the Trauma Center at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, OperaDelaware and the Grand Opera House of Wilmington, Delaware. Thanks to the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and to Judy, my favorite masterpiece.

Two weeks, and I still had the screaming in my head.

I tossed a few more crumbs from my bagel to Mutt and Jeff, who were looking a little thicker than their hundred or so compatriots scattered across the roach-coach area of the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. I guess they felt like theyd found good pasture and saw no reason to move on. It was slow going with the finger brace Rissman had put back on me. My ribs still groused every time I took a breath, but everything still hurt a little, so I just ignored it all.

Are you going to answer my question?

I looked up and again thought about how much she looked like her daughter. I thought about how seeing women in floral-print summer dresses gave me hope about things in general, and I thought about what she knew, which was probably more than I wanted to admit. Im sorry.

Lena took a sip of the coffee she had brought with her. Toy Diaz?

Hes a little worse for wear. Hes going to have a supervised rehabilitation at Graterford, and it promises to be lengthy since he no longer has his friends in the district attorneys office.

What about the young woman?

Jo Fitzpatrick?

Yes.

I tossed the pigeons more crumbs. By the letter of the law, she didnt do anything wrong. I reached over and picked up the cup of coffee shed brought for me; it was finally cool enough to drink. Maybe it just seems like enough people have been punished for this mess. Every mistake she made was because she cared about people or because she cared about her child. Lena nodded, but I dont think her old-world sense of justice was satisfied. I sipped my coffee as she and Mutt and Jeff watched. I dont know. I slapped my hand on the backpack, containing all my homework from Detectives North. If Katz and Gowder want to pursue it I let it trail off, just as I had the investigation.

I hear William turned states evidence?

Yep, it was as Id suspected. Vince Osgood and Toy Diaz headed up the operation and, when Billy Carlisle became a bit of a problem, Osgood decided to streamline the operation by retiring him to Graterford. The wildcard was the unscheduled release of William White Eyes. That set a power play into motion between Osgood and Diaz, which meant that one of them had to die. She looked at me over the rim of her coffee cup, the ginger of her eyes in full bloom. Diaz needed a soldier, and Shankar DuVall fit the bill. The official Academy of the Fine Arts plan was to kill Osgood; DuVall just didnt count on Gowder or Vic.

Or you. She finished her coffee and decided to give law enforcement a rest. The Indian abducted my daughter today?

Vic had been recuperating at Cadys, while I had been spending most of my time at the hospital with my daughter. Henry said something about Pine Street. Since theyre driving back, I think they were taking Dog and going antiquing.

She nodded but couldnt resist more questions. So the lawyer connection was through Devon Conliffe, and he was responsible for the money laundering?

I tossed some more bagel to the pigeons. The tripping point was Cady; she wouldnt play.

And so Diaz had DuVall throw Devon off the Ben Franklin Bridge?

Yep. As Alphonse said, Devon was preparing to turn states evidence. When Osgood and Diaz found out their boy had all the fortitude of a cheap lawn chair, they decided to start doing a little housecleaning. At least thats what William White Eyes said.

She stretched her legs out and crossed them at the ankles. How does he know?

He was there.

She turned to look at me. William was on the bridge?

Yep. He was tailing Devon to make sure he didnt go back to hurt Cady any more. I thought about it. I dont think he knew Diaz was going to have Shankar DuVall kill Devon but, when he did, I think it might have sealed the deal on his wavering allegiances.

She watched me, and I watched Mutt and Jeff. So, was there anybody in this case that didnt deserve to die?

Yep. I didnt say anything more but just sat there thinking of a large brown eye with a painted circle around it.

Lena let go of my arm when we got to the hospital valet parking kiosk and swung around to look at me. The dark luster of her hair shone blue in the morning sun, and I noticed that her smile had the same lupine slant as Vics. The Moretti women smiled like they were going to eat you, and youd like it. Dinner? I know a place for pizza.

I bet you do.

Bring Henry and the Terror. Michael says hell stay with Cady.

I think that might be turning into a situation.

She nodded. I think youre right.

She examined my finger brace and gently stroked a valentine-red nail across the bruised flesh. I waited a while before I spoke again. It was you who opened the door at Cadys whenBefore the reception, I mean. Her head slipped to one side and she looked up at me through her lashes, her eyes sharp for only a moment.

Im sure I have no idea what you mean.

She saw the Thunderbird pull up before I did, and that most likely explained what happened next. She stepped in close, rose up on tiptoes, and placed a very gentle kiss on my lips. I mightve leaned in a little after her, but she gave me my hand back and turned to walk past the powder blue convertible like a panther in floral print.

Vic was studying her mother very closely as she passed, the summer dress swaying provocatively in time with the slap of sandals against her naked heels. Mother

Lena paused at the back seat for only a moment to scratch under Dogs chin. Victoria

I walked over and leaned against the chrome frame of the windshield as all the males in the vicinity watched Lena disappear down the sidewalk and into the crowd.

Vic poked me in my still-sore ribs. What? Are we fucking interrupting something here?

It took me a while to think of anything safe to say. I thought you guys were antiquing.

She raised an eyebrow. Looks like you were, too.

Henry interrupted, before it could get any uglier. It is our last day, and I have not seen the Liberty Bell.

I nodded and looked down at Vics arm, which was still in the sling. Its cracked, but like most broken things, its worth keeping. She looked up at me and smiled. I glanced at Henry. Headed back early tomorrow morning?

Yes. He looked back at the beast. Are you sure you do not want me to take Dog?

No, I might need him, and hes good company. I studied the streamlined flanks of the Thunderbird, admiring the work of the South Philly body shop. You gonna be all right driving back by yourself?