72

The four of us marched down Dearborn Street-Shane and I in the middle, Q and Sam on the outside. It was still misting rain, but the low rumble of thunder in the distance promised a storm.

“Tanner is at Hugo’s Frog Bar,” Shane had said in his apartment. “Right now. He called me half an hour ago and asked me to come out.”

Hugo’s Frog Bar was in the Viagra Triangle, about six or seven blocks from Shane’s apartment.

“I’m going to kill him,” Shane said now as we pounded down the street. “I know I’m not a violent person, and I know I’m not very strong, but I am going to kill him.” He glanced at Sam and Q. “You guys have my back, right?”

Sam and Q mumbled “of course,” and our feet continued their fast march, but I don’t think any of us knew what to do now. The air hissed with electricity.

“Should we call the cops?” Q asked.

“They’ll call the feds and arrest Sam before we could explain anything about Tanner,” I said. “And the fact is, without Dr. Li, we don’t have any evidence.”

“We’re confronting that son of a bitch, and that’s it,” Shane said. “And we’re not waiting for the cops or anyone else.”

Rush Street was packed with partygoers. As we crossed at State Street, the sky lit up with a bolt of lightning, followed by a loud boom. There were groups of people everywhere-some standing on corners, others making their way from bar to bar. The rain continually sprayed the masses. No one seemed to care.

We pushed past girls dressed in sky-high heels and fall coats. They giggled lightheartedly. I remembered, in a distant way, when I had been like that.

Hugo’s was packed as usual with a blend of tourists and locals. The bar at the front was ten people deep. We rammed our way inside, searching for Tanner.

“He must be sitting down,” Shane said. “He likes the booths.” He pointed to the left and led us that way.

The dining room was less crowded but still buzzing with activity.

“Can I help you?” the maître d’ asked.

None of us answered as we stood at the entrance of the room. Our eyes scanned the white-clothed tables, the blue leather booths.

“There he is.” Sam pointed to the back of the room.

And sure enough, there was Tanner, sitting in a rear booth, with two other men. He was clearly intoxicated-you could always tell when Tanner got drunk because he actually smiled. Now he was laughing and telling a story, gesturing with a fork that held a chunk of red meat.

Shane bolted for the table before we could devise a plan. The rest of us charged after him, the maître d’ behind us, calling, “Wait! Excuse me!”

“You!” Shane said when we reached the table.

“Hey!” Tanner said in a boozy salute. But then his eyes landed on Sam and his smile slipped away. He looked at the four of us, his expression growing cautious.

“You killed my dad, you son of a bitch!” Shane said.

Patrons at the nearby tables stopped their conversations and stared.

Tanner looked at his two buddies. “I’m going to need a minute.”

“Sure, sure,” they mumbled, getting up from the booth and making a quick exit toward the bar.

Tanner started to stand, but Shane shoved him. “No!”

The four of us closed ranks so that we were looking down at Tanner. His eyes were bloodshot from booze, but they still processed everything going on. I’d seen him do that during trials. No one was more accomplished at dealing with last-minute surprises than Tanner. He could always figure out precisely what was being planned by the opposition and exactly what he would do in response.

“Why don’t we all sit,” Tanner said.

“No.” Shane’s voice was hard. “I want you to be honest. Did you pay Dr. Li to give my dad an herb that would make him have a heart attack?”

“No,” Tanner replied cautiously, but I knew what he was doing. He was denying that he had paid Dr. Li to actually kill Forester. Shane hadn’t accused him of paying her to make Forester ill. His denial was a trick lawyers used when they coached witnesses-if you can say no to part of the question, then just say no and let the other side work out exactly what you’re denying.

“You paid Dr. Li to make Forester sick, didn’t you?” I said.

Tanner looked at me with hatred. “You’re just a little girl who’s bitter because her sugar daddy isn’t around anymore.”

Sam started to say something, but I put a hand on his arm and pulled him back.

Tanner’s response had been another tactic-divert the questioner, make it personal.

“Tanner,” I said, “you were the bitter one.” I thought of everything we had figured out in Shane’s apartment, and I let it fly. “You were losing everything in your life-your work, your wife, your house, your status at the firm. Between the lack of bonuses and your divorce, you were broke. You’d hit the bottom of the barrel. Believe me, I know how bad it can be to lose your world, but you couldn’t handle it. You thought if you could just get the Pickett Enterprises cases, you’d be on top again. You’d start making money, you’d regain respect at the firm, you’d have money to pay off your ex-wives, buy a great place and start dating again. The way to accomplish that was to put your friend Shane in power at Pickett Enterprises. And the best way to do that was to make Forester sick so he’d retire.”

“You’re out of your mind, McNeil.” He spat the words with venom, his eyes narrowed and crazy with anger…and something else that I couldn’t read. Tanner gave me a disgusted look, then his eyes flicked over to Sam. “Your boyfriend here stole from Forester, probably killed him, too, and now you’re trying to put the blame somewhere else.”

“Yeah, my disappearing worked out perfectly for you, didn’t it?” Sam said. “When I was gone, it looked like I was the guilty one.”

Something dawned on me then. I looked at Tanner. “And you leaked the news of Sam taking the shares to the press, didn’t you?” I said. “Because the more heat there was about Sam, the less anyone would ever look in your direction.”

Tanner’s face was unreadable.

“What you didn’t realize,” Sam said, “was that I have paperwork from Forester authorizing me to act as I did. Do you have paperwork giving you the power to mess with his medications?”

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about.” But Tanner’s eyes twitched from one of us to the next. I could see his mind scrambling over everything that was happening. He was looking for an out, either intellectually or physically. The four of us pushed closer around him. His jaw clenched, his eyes continued to seek refuge, making him look like a trapped rodent. I knew we’d hit the mark. He wasn’t protesting enough. He didn’t appear at all shocked by our allegations.

“You know what I’m talking about,” I said. “You’ve been going to Dr. Li for years. She must have mentioned to you that she was in financial trouble, and you decided to use that information to your advantage. You gave her money and in exchange she gave Forester herbs that exacerbated his heart problems. You didn’t count on him having a heart attack and dying.”

There was panic in Tanner’s eyes, but he was trying to cover it. Tanner looked at Shane, the one person he could always manipulate. “I hope you’re not listening to her, Mouse.”

“Don’t you ever call me that again!” Shane swung at Tanner with his fist.

“Shit!” Tanner said, ducking.

Sam yanked Shane away.

“You’re going to have to leave,” the maître d’said, appearing at our table, her face creased with a deep frown.

I turned to say something to her, but all the movement had caused a break in our formation around Tanner. He bolted to his feet and began running for the door.

“Stop him!” Q yelled. He ran after Tanner, the rest of us right behind him. Shane knocked into a waiter, sending a tray of food into the air, the plates shattering on the floor. The entire restaurant watched in fascination. The maître d’ screamed.