Piece of My Heart (Under Suspicion #7) - Mary Higgins Clark Page 0,24

you did or didn’t do.”

Laurie noticed that her father had been uncharacteristically silent. He appeared deep in thought, his brow wrinkled.

“You look like you’re mulling something over, Dad.”

He held up a tentative finger, as if he were literally trying to point to an idea he had in mind. “Alex is right, Laurie. It’s not your fault. But it might be mine.”

Laurie and Alex exchanged a perplexed glance before Leo continued.

“We were talking about Blue Eyes. His obsession with harming you and Timmy stemmed from his desire for revenge against me. When Alex asked you if someone came to mind who might want to hurt your son, you had to reach for a woman on the West Coast who made a cryptic comment about Timmy three months ago. You’re not in the middle of working a case that might give someone a motive to intimidate you this very minute.”

It didn’t take Laurie long to follow his train of thought. She knew how important her father’s meeting that morning had been with the District Attorney’s Office. “But you are,” she said, looking intently at her father.

“This could be Darren Gunther’s handiwork. He won’t be satisfied until I admit that I framed him for the murder of Lou Finney.”

Chapter 17

Eighteen Years Earlier

Lou Finney heard the chime of jingle bells as the bar door opened, then felt a rush of cold air blow past the front booth, his favorite place to sit if he wasn’t in the back office or working behind the bar. He recognized the newcomer as Rocky, one of his neighborhood regulars.

“Had a feeling I’d find you right there,” Rocky said. “First snow of the year means Finn sitting right in that very spot. Only question is whether you follow the snow, or the snow follows you.”

Lou’s first and middle names, Louis Caron, were after his maternal grandfather, but he’d been called Finn as long as he could remember. The bar bore the same name, naturally. Rocky’s got an observant eye, Finn thought. This was indeed one of Finn’s many annual traditions. A shot of Jameson on St. Patty’s Day. A good beer during the first Mets game. Watching the first snowfall from the front booth in winter.

Rocky took his time in the doorway, waiting as a group of young women made their way toward the exit from the Thursday night trivia contest at the back of the bar.

“You gonna close that door or what, Rocky?” Finn asked. “The heat don’t run for free in here.”

Rocky smiled, looking pleased as the line of attractive women walked past, each one thanking him for holding the door open for her on the way out.

“Such a gentleman,” Finn said dryly.

As the door finally closed, Rocky threw him a wink. “Can you blame me, Finn? That’s the closest thing I’m getting to a hot date any time soon at our age.”

“Speak for yourself, old-timer.”

Rocky grabbed one of Finn’s shoulders and gave it a good, friendly shake.

“Get this geezer a drink on me,” Finn said, calling out to Clarissa behind the bar.

Rocky gave him an appreciative wink. “Business must be good.”

Indeed, it was, Finn thought. He’d opened this bar thirty-five years ago, when he was only twenty-seven years old, with a business loan cosigned by his parents. That was back when the denizens of the West Village were artists, rebels, hippies, and others looking for a community away from the posher, more proper areas of New York City. Finn wasn’t drawn so much to the counterculture as he was to the cheap rent.

He told his folks that someday this neighborhood would take off, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined the hipness of downtown Manhattan in the new millennium. Now he enjoyed the best of both worlds. He still catered to regulars like Rocky, keeping the music on the jukebox about right for their era. But he also had a cocktail menu with cosmopolitans and apple martinis, trivia night Thursdays, and Sunday Bloody Mary singalongs to bring in the young people who thought it was cool to hang out at an old established joint once in a while.

As he watched Rocky settle into his usual spot at the end of the bar and take a long pull from his on-the-house beer, Finn allowed himself to enjoy a moment of pride in the business he had built.

The snow was really starting to stick by the time Clarissa appeared at his booth with a glass mug filled with dark liquid. He could tell from the