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“You and I have known each other a long time, Monty. We’ve shared lots of family stories, pictures, proud milestones in our kids’ lives. You’re a good father, and I know how much your children mean to you. Well, mine means just as much to me. So please—stop doing this to my boy.”
Monty stared. Evidently, Arthur had handed his father a pile of crap that painted Arthur the hero and Monty the villain.
He’d have to tread carefully. To Rhoda and Lenny, Arthur was the sun and the moon and the stars. Monty couldn’t tarnish that image—not if he wanted to keep Lenny on his side and get the information he came for.
“I respect the hell out of you, Lenny,” he said. “As a man and a father. I’m not looking to cause you any grief. But, frankly, I have no clue what you’re talking about. What is it you think I’m doing to Arthur?”
“Jeopardizing everything he cares about—his career, his family. Taking a stranger’s word over his. Tearing him up inside. You should have heard his voice tonight. It’s like he was drowning. I swear, Monty, I’ve never heard him in so much pain. I don’t know how this Karly woman found you, what she told you, or why you got involved, but you’re being way too hard on Arthur. He’s taking responsibility for his son—a son he never knew he had. He’s doing the right thing. He’s already supplied a blood sample. He’s waiting for the results. If it’s medically possible, he’ll give Jonah his transfusion. So back off. Whatever you’re pressuring him with, stop.”
So that was Arthur’s game. Telling his father he’d never known about Karly’s pregnancy and that she was springing the whole enchilada on him at crisis time. Telling him that Monty had joined Karly’s cause, and was putting him behind the eight ball because of it.
“You know me better than that, Lenny. I’m not into social scandals. I’d never threaten Arthur’s political future or his family because of an illegitimate son he just found out he has.” Monty played this with supreme caution, determined not to antagonize Lenny and push him away. “I respect the fact that he’s taking responsibility for Jonah. Aside from that, I’m out of the picture. If Arthur senses pressure, it’s because I asked him a bunch of questions. I’m busting my ass trying to solve the Winters’ homicides. Which is also why I’m here tonight. Not to talk about Jonah. To talk about George Hayek.”
“George Hayek?” Clearly, that came at Lenny out of left field. “I already told you everything I know about him. Why is his name coming up again now?”
“The same reason it came up the first time. I’ve got outstanding leads to follow up on. I’m pounding every one of them into the ground.” Monty took a bite of honey cake. “For example, did Hayek ever give you a gun?”
This time Lenny jumped. “A…gun?”
“Yeah, you know—a pistol, a revolver, whatever.”
“Right.” Lenny stopped fiddling with his ring. Grabbing a damp cloth, he began mopping the counter. “Now that you mention it, yes. It was so long ago, I’d almost forgotten. But he did give me a gun. He was trying to help. There’d been a string of robberies in the neighborhood. Rhoda was a nervous wreck, and I did a lot of bitching and moaning. George got worried. So he gave me a pistol, just in case. If you’re going to ask me if it was hot, I have no idea. George just—”
“I don’t care if it was hot,” Monty interrupted. “I care what kind of gun it was. Do you remember?”
“Sure.” Lenny’s gaze was fixed on the counter he was wiping. “It was a Walther PPK. George knew I was a big Bond fan. That’s why he chose it. He was a really good kid, Monty. I can’t imagine him being involved in anything like murder…”
“Those murders happened more than twenty years after George worked for you. It’s possible you didn’t know him or what he was capable of anymore. By the way, what happened to the gun?”
“What?”
“The Walther. What happened to it?”
“I…It was stolen. I’m not sure when. The day George gave it to me, I stuck it in a drawer and forgot about it. One day I looked for it and it was gone.”
“A drawer—which drawer? Was it locked? And who else knew the gun was in there?”
Monty’s rapid fire was having the desired effect. Lenny was clearly unnerved, his gaze darting about as he groped for a reply.
“The drawer under the register,” he said finally, gesturing in that direction. “I kept it there with the bigger money, like hundred-dollar bills. Usually, I locked the drawer. I gue
ss sometimes I forgot. Anyone behind the counter could have seen it.”
“What about your family—Rhoda, Arthur? Did you tell them about the gun?”
“They knew about it. They weren’t happy.”
“I don’t blame them. Guns can be dangerous. You said one day the gun went missing. What else was taken?”
“The cash that was with it.”
Monty whistled. “That must have been a lot of money back then. Did you report the burglary to the cops?”
“No. I was afraid it would get George in trouble, since he’s the one who got me the gun.”
“So he was still working for you when the theft happened?”
“I—I guess so.”
