Hedging (A Smith and Wetzon Mystery)

but he’s a tough mutha,” Silvestri said.
    Marty grinned. “What’s a spleen among friends?”
    Nora nuzzled her head into Leslie’s lap and when Leslie scratched her ears, emitted a contented sigh.
    “I have to admit I was out of it for the last week, but the guys hung around trying to catch me when I was copacetic enough to find out what happened. By that time, when I knew how much time had passed, I didn’t think they’d find you alive.”
    “I got away from them,” Leslie said, “but I don’t know how.”
    “So they tell me.”
    “Les, I want you to hear Marty’s story, and see if anything sticks. How about it?”
    “I don’t have much hope—”
    “Just listen, okay?”
    She nodded, realized that Marty couldn’t see, said, “Okay.”
    “Here goes. It was raining, sleeting, an all-around lousy night,” Marty said. “I was coming home from my daughter’s, the bus was crowded. I was on the aisle, Nora sitting in the seat next to me, so people could get by. The bus always stops where it did that night.”
    Leslie spoke, as if relating a dream. “A gas station. It was closed. They were chasing me. The bus came and I got on.”
    “You came down the aisle toward me. I moved Nora back in the aisle so you could sit down. There was this acrid smell, like you’d been in a fire. You were wearing this big wet cashmere coat—”
    “You knew that?”
    “Nothing wrong with my sense of touch. The coat was as big as a blanket, there was that much material. Musta been a man’s overcoat. And I could feel the snow when you climbed over me.”
    “A man’s overcoat? Where was my coat? Whose overcoat?”
    “Take it easy, Les,” Silvestri said, resting his hand on her shoulder.
    She took a breath. “So I was wearing a man’s overcoat when I was kidnapped. But when they found me in the park, I was wearing only a black dress.”
    “Maybe that’s how you got away.” With his good arm Marty reached for the water glass and sipped through a straw.
    “Did I say anything to you on the bus?”
    “Not at first. I did a good bit of nagging, I’ll admit, because you were shaking like a leaf and it seemed like you could use some help. You finally told me that two men in a gray Mercedes were trying to kill you. You seemed sure they were following the bus and would be waiting when we got to Port Authority.”
    “And I guess they were.”
    “But we cooked up a bit of mischief between us,” Marty said. “I had you get off behind me and I made a scene like I was having a seizure, fell on the ground and rolled around. You were able to sneak around the back of the bus and get away.”
    “But if I got away, what was I doing back in the terminal when you got shot?”
    “Good question. You had time to disappear, but you hung around for some reason. And by the time I convinced everybody I didn’t need an ambulance, you should have been long gone. But you weren’t. Suddenly you were right there next to me, and so was the shooter. That’s all I remember.”
    “Well, it’s way more than I do,” Leslie said, checking Silvestri. “Why, when I could have gotten away, did I hang around?”
    “I thought you might be a Feeb or an undercover cop.”
    “Did I say anything that made you think that?”
    “I asked if the two guys chasing you were cops. You said you didn’t think they were on the job.” He gave a nod in Silvestri’s direction. “I guess I know now where that came from.”
    “Did I tell you my name?”
    “No. I asked if you wanted me to call someone and you gave me part of a number—three seven four five five, then stopped like you couldn’t remember the rest.”
    “My number at One P.P.,” Silvestri said.
    A nurse came through the door. “How are you feeling, Mr. Lawler? You don’t want to overdo.” She frowned at Leslie and Silvestri. “This is his first day out of ICU.”
    “We’ll get going, Marty,” Silvestri said. “If anything else comes to mind, you know where to find me.”
    Nora followed them to the door. “Thank you, Marty,” Leslie said, giving Nora’s snout a farewell rub.
    As soon as the door closed behind them, Leslie’s eyelids drooped, lead filled her veins. Sleep. That’s what she needed. She slumped against Silvestri. Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance? She asked Silvestri the question.
    He held open the door on a cab that had just dropped a passenger in front of the hospital. “Let’s go home, kid.”
    “Can we pick up some coffee and a