Part 21 (1/2)
”Some kid brought this in a minute ago.” He gave me a large envelope with my name printed on it.
”Has Miss Smythe come in?”
”Her friend did, she's-”
I broke away. The elevator crawled up to the fourth floor. Without knocking I went in. Marza was on the sofa and jerked to her feet. Her lacquered hair was messed up and her eyes were blazing fire.
”Who were they?” she demanded.
”Where's Bobbi?”
Her body was shaking inside the green frame of her dress. ”Who were they?” If looks could kill, I'd be on a slab next to Braxton. She started for me, her hands reaching. One of her inch-long talons had broken, but there were still nine more left and aimed at my face. I dropped the envelope, caught her arms in time, and held her at a safe distance. She kicked and struggled until she ran out of breath, then her knees gave out and she sank to the floor, trying not to sob from frustration.
”What happened?” I asked. Somehow her raw display kept me cold and thinking.
”They took her,” she spat. ”Who were they?”
”When?”
”When we left the studio. He said to come here and wait for you.”
Oh, G.o.d. ”A blond man, long coat?”
”Who was he? He had a gun-”
”Anyone else? Was he alone?”
”The woman with the knife.” She gulped air, still shaking and her head sagged.
Near her was the dropped envelope and its meaning suddenly blossomed in my mind. I grabbed it up.
It was flat on the edges and slightly thicker in the middle and whatever was inside rustled against the paper. I tore one end off with stiff, clumsy fingers and the contents spilled out.
Marza went dead silent, not even breathing. Her hand shot out and caught a last tendril of the cascade of platinum silk before it sifted to the floor.
Neither of us could move, each staring with numb shock at the bright, soft nest between us. Marza swayed, her eyes flat from the faint coming on. I got her to the sofa, then went to the liquor cabinet and poured a straight triple from the first bottle I grabbed and made her drink it. She choked and pawed me away, but I made her drink it all.
”G.o.d, I hate that stuff.” Her breath smelled of rum.
The dullness had left her eyes and she looked as though she might be useful again.
I felt the shock hitting me now as I looked again at the pile of s.h.i.+ning hair. A small piece of paper was lodged in the tangle. My guts were ice as I fished it out.
Sit tight or we'll give the wh.o.r.e more than just a haircut.
That was all. Marza whipped it from me and read. She was trembling, but trying to hold in the panic.
”Why? What do they want?”
There was nothing sane I could tell her. The fragments of Braxton's last words gave me an answer, but I was repelled by it.
Ring.
Marza flinched and stared at the phone as if it were a bomb.
I picked it up and waited.
”Jack? Marza?” It was her voice, breathless, strained.
”Bobbi!”
Marza stiffened and rushed in, trying to pull the phone from me.
”Oh, Jack, they're-”
And that was all, except for a m.u.f.fled noise in the background and the final click of disconnection. Marza glared at me, for all the good it did her. I felt just as angry and helpless. We waited, but the thing didn't ring again.
”What do they want?” she repeated.
I shook my head and went to the bedroom to get away from her questions.
Bobbi's rose scent hung lightly in the air. A couple of dresses tried on for the broadcast and then rejected were flung on the bed. The closet was open. I fumbled out of my tattered coat and s.h.i.+rt. Since I started coming over so often, she insisted I leave some spare clothes in with hers.
I pulled on a fresh s.h.i.+rt, my fingers working mechanically, as I tried not to think.
Marza was where I left her on the sofa, head in hands. ”Why won't you tell me anything?”
”You know as much as I do, even more. I've seen the man in the coat, his name is Malcolm, said he was a private eye. He shot and lulled Braxton tonight.”
She swallowed. ”And the other? That woman?”
”What'd she look like?”
”I don't know.”
”Yes, you do, you said she had a knife. What else?” . ”About my age, bony all over, and hungry. Her eyes... she looked crazy. The man grabbed Bobbi and the woman put that knife to her throat, and they went out. He said to come here and wait for you.”
”Was that all he said?”
She nodded.
Someone knocked at the door. Our heads swiveled and she went bolt upright.
They knocked again. I signaled to her to stay put and looked out the peephole. It was Madison Pruitt. He saw my eye and waved and I opened the door a crack.
”Oh, Fleming, h.e.l.lo.” He moved to come in, but I didn't stand aside. ”Something wrong? Is the party still on? The broadcast stopped in the middle of-”
”Sorry, the party's off, Bobbi got sick at the last minute- Marza was at my shoulder. ”No, let him in. Please.”
I didn't exactly want to, but she looked like she needed him and pulled him inside. She wrapped her arms around him. He didn't understand what was going on, but instinctively offered what comfort he could.