Free New Tricks by David Rosenfelt Page A

would have thought, very
     pale but peaceful and extraordinarily beautiful. I want to go to her, to touch her and hold her hand, but they won’t let me.
    I go back to the room, where Kevin is waiting. I know he wants to talk to me about the Steven Timmerman case, but he doesn’t
     know how to bring it up.
    I save him the trouble. “Kevin, I want to take a day or two to think about things. I may withdraw from the case, if I can’t
     give it the attention it deserves.”
    He nods. “That’s very reasonable. Shall I tell Steven what’s going on?”
    I nod. “He has a right to know.”
    We hear noises out in the hallway, and Kevin goes to the door to see what has people so excited. He comes back a moment later.
    “What’s going on?” I ask.
    “You’re about to find out.”
    After a few seconds, Marcus Clark walks in the door. Marcus is one of the quietest people I know, silent and invisible when
     he wants to be, but he creates instant commotion wherever he goes. Actually, “commotion” might not be the right word. It’s
     closer to panic, bordering on terror.
    I’ve used Marcus as a private investigator on a number of occasions, more frequently since Laurie gave up that job and moved
     to Wisconsin. Marcus has also served as my personal bodyguard when cases have placed me in some physical jeopardy. He is uniquely
     qualified for both jobs, because he is the most frightening human being on the planet.
    With Marcus walking down the corridor, the nurses must have reacted like the cinematic Japanese citizenry when they saw Godzilla
     wandering the streets of Tokyo. Actually, Marcus and ’Zilla are similar in a number of ways. They are both basically nonverbal,
     fearless, and perfectly willing to kill anything in their path. I think Marcus has fresher breath.
    Laurie first introduced me to Marcus, and I’ve always been struck by the change in his demeanor when he’s around her. He becomes
     borderline human, and I’ve even detected a hint of emotion. He likes her, which is why I try to remind him at every opportunity
     how disappointed she would be if he killed me.
    Marcus doesn’t say hello; I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say hello or good-bye. He just looks around the room and is probably
     disappointed when he sees only Kevin and me. “Laurie,” he says, and I think it’s a question.
    “She’s in intensive care,” I say. “She’s unconscious.”
    He takes a moment to digest that information. “She’ll be good,” he says. “The shooter… nuh.”
    That probably represents as long a speech as I’ve ever heard from Marcus, and with that he turns around and walks out, sucking
     all the air out of the room with him. When talking about celebrities and politicians, it’s often said that when people with
     real presence, real star power, walk into any room, they take it over. They become the center of everything. That’s the way
     it is with Marcus, and when he leaves there’s a void left behind.
    Kevin stares at the door, openmouthed. “Did he just say what I think he said? That he’s going after the guy who shot Laurie,
     and that he’ll do something bad to him when he finds him? Maybe kill him?”
    “Not in so many words, but yes.”
    “That’s vigilante justice,” says Kevin.
    “I prefer to call it good old-fashioned vigilante justice.”
    Kevin thinks for a moment. “Me too,” he says.
    I don’t know who or where the shooter is, but if he’s smart, he’s getting his affairs in order and choosing a casket.
    Kevin goes down to the jail to update Steven Timmerman, and I go back to returning cell phone messages. This one is from Cindy
     Spodek, a good friend of Laurie’s and mine who is an FBI agent in Boston. She is one of the people I turn to for information
     if my cases involve the bureau in some fashion, and she has been as helpful as she can be while maintaining professional confidences.
    Her call was to inquire about Laurie, and I tell her what I know, which is