Page 77 of Paranoia

Cantor didn’t say anything for a moment. She was thinking. Then she said, “I know Bennett. He won’t give up. I think you need to wait a few days before you leave. Maybe try again.”

“You want me to try again to kill Detective Bennett? That’s going to take more planning and time. And my costs go up too.”

I glanced through the restaurant, sensing that things might becoming to a head. I was particularly satisfied that Doyle had used the word “kill” instead of some euphemism. It would help when the case went to court.

Cantor feigned a frown like she was actually sad. She reached across the table to tenderly touch Doyle’s shoulder. Then she pinched his cheek. It looked like a doting aunt harassing a young nephew.

I was trying not to be obvious as I leaned forward slightly to look past the pillar in front of me. Thankfully, the band took a break. There was no one to really see me tucked away in the corner, so I shifted my seat to where I could have a better angle on Doyle and Cantor’s booth. There were maybe thirty people in the place. I wondered how we could do this without anyone noticing.

When I looked past Cantor, I noticed the wide window facing the street. And leaning on a car just outside was Dennis Wu. I didn’t know if he thought he was invisible or just assumed no one would bother to look out the giant window. Like a guy in a suit just waiting around doesn’t stand out. Wu might as well have been looking in the window with his hands cupped at the sides of his head.

I reached for my phone to tell him to back away. Then I looked up and saw it was too late.

CHAPTER 115

I COULD SEE Celeste Cantor do a double take when she glanced out the window and recognized Dennis Wu. She was smart and had real street experience. She didn’t hesitate to reach across and pat Doyle’s chest. Then she reached into his pocket. She pulled out the tiny microphone that was transmitting to us. She stared at the tiny mic but didn’t jerk it out of Doyle’s pocket.

Cantor flopped back in the booth like she was exhausted. She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Kevin, what have you done?”

“I had to. This whole thing just wasn’t right. I’ve made my peace with my decision.” He couldn’t look his cousin in the eye. He stared down at the table and fumbled with the microphone, trying to stick it back into his pocket. He was as disoriented as Cantor.

I glanced over at the bar to get Trilling’s attention. He wasalready looking at me for direction. I waited, still mostly out of sight of Cantor. The pillar gave me great comfort. I just hoped it was solid if things went bad. I kept my earpiece in. Cantor was burying herself on the recording.

Then she let out a sob. I could see her face flushed red from all the way across the restaurant. Right now, no one was noticing anything out of the ordinary. The soft clink of dishes and conversation drifted over the restaurant.

Cantor muttered something and stood up. Doyle stayed seated in the booth. She stuck her right hand into her purse. I knew what she was reaching for. Hell, everyone in this situation would know what she was reaching for.

Doyle saw her motion and started to move. I reflexively drew my Glock even as I calculated outcomes in my head. Would it escalate things? Could I talk Cantor out of it? How many civilians were left exposed? I knew I’d be too slow to react, but I managed to shout, “No!”

Then Cantor pulled out a small semiautomatic pistol.

Doyle froze in place, the gray gunmetal attracting all of his attention.

She pointed the pistol toward Doyle. He didn’t flinch. He sat back down completely and kept looking at the barrel of the gun. That was experience. Clearly he’d had guns pointed at him in the past.

Cantor hesitated for a moment.

Doyle started to speak. “Celeste, I—” He was cut off.

Cantor fired off three quick shots. Doyle was knocked back against the booth, then fell onto the seat. I couldn’t see him at all.

I was still in shock. But I had to think about all the civilians in the room. I grabbed the microphone that had been left onstage,turned it on, and tossed it toward the speaker, causing a loud and immediate feedback squelch.

I wanted Cantor to focus on me while she held a gun in her hand. And that’s exactly what I got. She turned toward the noise quickly, even as patrons were falling over one another to get out of the way. She saw me standing next to the pillar.

I motioned for her to drop the gun. I was hoping she’d come to her senses and think about all the years she’d spent in the police department. I wanted her to do the right thing more than I could say.

Trilling slid off his barstool and ducked down to take cover as he drew his pistol.

Then Cantor raised her pistol and pointed it at my face.

There was nothing I could do.

CHAPTER 116

I STARED AT the barrel of Celeste Cantor’s gun for a split second. Then I ducked behind the pillar as she fired, twice. One of the bullets struck the pillar. Pieces of plaster and a shattered effigy of Cupid floated to the floor. Some plaster blew into my face.

Even blinking hard to flush out some of the dust from my eyes, I could tell the restaurant was in chaos. People were rushing into the kitchen to get out the back door. The guitar player from the band started to come onto the stage to grab her Gibson. The drummer seized her by the hips and yanked her into the kitchen.

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