One Hundred

ONE HUNDRED

"IT'S GOING TO BE okay," I say to Brigid when I'm next to her on the couch.

Morelli is no longer pointing the gun at me. Or us. But it's still in his hand.

"That's entirely up to you," he says to me. "The part about it being okay."

"I don't suppose there's any point in telling you that I'm sorry about your uncle Bobby," I say.

"There's no point, because you're not. And I'm not."

Brigid's living room feels smaller than ever, the air thick with an almost kinetic combination of her fear and my fear for her. And my own anger about Morelli bringing her into this.

Nothing to be done about that now, because nothing ever changes. It's like Jimmy always says: the one with the gun is the tough one.

My own voice is what sounds thick as I ask him, "What do you want?"

"Eric was supposed to deliver a message to you. But you clearly didn't get that message. Or just refused to get it, being the stubborn bitch that you are."

There's no reason for me to reply to that. Mostly because he's pretty much nailed it.

I give Brigid a quick, sidelong glance. She's staring at Morelli in his black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots. Black eyes. Her face is the color of tissue paper. Her hands are clasped on her lap, tightly, the knuckles as white as the rest of her.

"Who sent you here?"

"My boss."

"I thought your uncle was your boss."

"You still just don't get it." He sighs. "You still don't know what you just do not goddamn know."

"Enlighten me then."

"Why I'm here," he says, "is to try to get through to you for the last time." He shrugs and grins. "Do I have your attention now ?"

The note on Martin that night had said the same thing.

"Undivided."

My sister's breathing is shallow next to me, forced, harsh.

I'm the reason he's in her house.

I brought him into her life.

I did this.

"There's been a change in our business model, I guess you could call it," Morelli says. "At this point, we have no problem with you defending Eric's dad, as long as you leave the rest of it alone. Leave us alone, before we close this thing down for good."

"Close what down, you don't mind me asking?"

He picks up the gun, points at me, squints as if aiming it across the short distance between us.

But puts it back down as quickly as he lifted it.

"Does it really matter at this point?"

"To me it does."

"Yeah," he says, "it would matter to you. Wouldn't it?"

I arch my back, as if stretching it, placing my hands in the small of my back.

Feeling my own gun back there, stuck into the back of my jeans.

How does Jimmy like to put it?

Just in case the ball goes up.

"All you have to do is tell your partner to stop bothering people and stop asking questions about shit that has nothing to do with you defending Eric's sack-of-shit father. Then nobody else has to die, Eric and I ride off into the sunset like the cowboys we are."

"What about your friend McKenzie? Does he ride off with you?"

Morelli gives me a sly look, as if he's got a secret. "I sure do hope nothing happens to him!" he says, his voice suddenly brightening.

He nods at me. "This is a deal you should take, while it's still on the table."

"If I don't?"

"Jane!" my sister says plaintively.

Morelli gets up, walks over to Brigid, and gently lays his gun against her cheek. She seems to shrink inside herself but is too frightened to lean away from him.

He slowly moves the gun up and down, as if he's using it to caress her.

"Then the next one to go is her," he says. "And then maybe all the other people you care about after her. And that dog of yours. For the last time, stop bothering people you shouldn't be bothering, about shit that happened a long time ago and has nothing to do with you."

"Why not just kill me?" I ask. "Joe Champi was ready to."

"Champi was out of control. If you hadn't shot him, I would have had to."

"But you won't shoot me."

"My boss says no, as long as you finally get the message," he says. "He says he owes a guy a favor. And for the time being, you're still the favor."

"Who's the guy?"

"Your father."

I hear the sharp intake of breath from Brigid. Or maybe it was my own.

"What did you just say?"

"All I'm going to say."

Morelli backs toward the door, the gun still in his hand, all the way out of my sister's house, gently closing the door in front of him.

I think about going after him, getting my gun out and firing a couple of shots in the air just to scare the hell out of him tonight the way he scared Brigid. But I don't. My sister has been through enough. We both have.

I try to put my arm around her. But she leans away from me now, as if I'm the one she doesn't want touching her.

"You're going to do exactly what he asked you to do," she says. "You're going to defend Rob and then you're going to let God sort out the rest of it."

"What about what he just said about Dad?"

My fragile sister, my beautiful fragile sister, looks at me.

"Dad's dead," she says. "How about working on keeping us alive?"