Piece of My Heart (Under Suspicion #7) - Mary Higgins Clark Page 0,25

way she carried it that the drink was hot.

“Is that what I think it is?” Finn asked.

“Your favorite.” Favorites, Finn thought. Just like with his kids, Finn would never admit that he had favorite employees, but Clarissa was indeed his favorite. According to her birth certificate, she was twenty-six years old, but he was convinced that her soul was born in 1937. Plus, she made a hazelnut hot toddy that tasted like heaven in a cup.

A loud roar came from the back room, and she responded with a cross look. “We’ve got some numbskulls back there tonight. Angry vibes if you know what I mean. Too much testosterone. No offense, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile.

“Some guy with a big mouth is celebrating his twenty-first birthday. He’s home on winter break from Vassar, which he is quite loud and proud about. According to him, he’s already got a top job lined up on Wall Street. He’s going to own this town by the time he’s thirty.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Finn asked.

“To him? Not in this lifetime! Besides, he’s got his eyes set on someone else. He’s trying to move in on one of the women back there, buying her drinks all night.”

“Let me know if he crosses a line. If he’s looking to cause trouble, I’d rather toss him out of here before he gets started.”

As Clarissa turned toward the bar, the volume from the back room suddenly burst to an even higher decibel level, nearly causing Finn to spill his hot toddy. The heavy purple curtain separating the room from the rest of the bar billowed as if a heavy gust of wind had found its way inside, and two men came tumbling out, shoving each other, surrounded by a crowd. A tall guy in a sports jacket and loosened collar cried out, “Come on, Wall Street tough guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They were moving so quickly that Finn could only make out the dark hair of the taller fighter, and the red hair of the shorter, squatter one. A woman screamed, “Jay, watch out!” as the dark-haired one threw a punch that landed against his opponent’s jaw.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Finn hollered, jumping up from his booth with both palms up. Finn’s was known for being a low-key hangout, but you don’t own a bar for three and a half decades without learning how to break up a fight. It’s just a couple college kids, Finn thought. Amateur hour. I’ve got this.

The men paid no attention to Finn and continued to shove and punch each other, carried by the momentum of the crowd around them. Finn jumped into the group, trying to reach the two fighters to break them apart. Before he knew it, he was being pushed through the doorway outside. The sidewalk in front of the bar was beginning to become slippery. A younger man next to him lost his footing and fell to the ground as the dark-haired fighter bent low and charged toward the redhead, letting out what sounded like a loud growl.

Finn inserted two pinkies into the corners of his mouth and gave the crowd his best attention-getting wolf whistle. “Enough of this, fellas. Break it up, break it up.”

He felt a push behind him and was heading even closer to the action. Once they can see and hear me, he thought, I’ll be able to calm them down I’ll get right between them if I have to.

The redhead’s eyes opened wide as he registered Finn’s presence in front of him. His lips parted. He’s just a kid, Finn thought. I can tell he’s scared and wants this to be over. We’re all fine here. Almost done.

The kid’s gaze lowered, and Finn allowed his eyes to follow, suddenly aware of a strange feeling in his abdomen. A sharp pain. The glow of the corner street lantern was refracted from the top of the metal blade, two inches of it visible between Finn’s sweatshirt and the knife handle. The fingers wrapped around the handle were clenched into a fist. He watched the blade get pulled out of his body, and then took a deep gasp for air, like a swimmer coming up from the water. The air turned into a scream as the knife plunged into him again.

Finn’s knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the sidewalk. The last thing to fall was his head against the first snow of winter on the concrete.

“Fiiiiinnnn! No, Finn, no. Please, someone call an