Part 21 (2/2)
”What's happened? Was there an accident?”
”Come on, I'll explain.” I shut the door and made explanations. ”There's going to be more people coming over soon, you'll have to get rid of them.”
”But what can we do?” Marza asked.
”Just what I said. This guy's trying to make us nervous so we lose our heads. We do that and we lose Bobbi.”
”And the police?””No. We don't dare.”
The phone rang again. I picked it up before the bell had died.
P. N.- Elrod ”It's me, Jackie boy. Malcolm-you remember.”
He got no answer.
”You gotta behave or I might get mad. Did you read my note?”
”Yes.”
”And you heard her on the phone?”
”Yes.”
”Good. Now you know we mean business. Your girlfriend got her ears lowered a little this time, but that's all-no real harm done. You do what we want and she gets to keep ”em.”
”What do you want?”
”Nothing you can't handle, Jackie.”
”What?”
”You gotta pencil?”
I wrote out the address he gave me.
”You come straight here and no cops. Just you or you'll never be able to find her again. Leave the other b.i.t.c.h where she is, out of trouble.”
”I'll come.”
”No smart ideas, either. We know all about you. That's why I aced the squirt, just to let you know. You see, I can't really hurt you, but the people around you is something else. No tricks. When you walk to the door you make noise and stay in sight, 'cause if you don't, your girl won't be using mirrors, either, but for a different reason. You got ten minutes to get here before she goes into surgery.” He laughed, the line clicked, and my ear was pressed to dead air.
Marza's nails dug into my arm. ”What do they mean? Where is she?”
”They want me, not her.”
”But why?”
I memorized the address and tore the sheet from my notebook, folding it around Malcolm's business card. I scribbled Escott's name and the name of his hotel on the outside and gave it to her.
”This is a friend who can help us, but he's in New York. Call this hotel, they might be able to locate him. Say it's an emergency, life and death, but don't tell the truth to anyone but him. If he calls, give him the story, but no cops or Bobbi's dead. You got that?”
She nodded.
”He's got an English accent. In the meantime stay off the phone and keep the door shut.”
”Yes, but-”
But I had bolted out the door, car key in hand and murder on my mind.
The address led to a warehouse that was a mountain of dingy red bricks and old wood held together by crumbling mortar and rusty nails. The street was deserted, the other nearby structures hollow and silent except for the rats. It was a good spot to kill someone. The river was only ten feet from the back entrance, and a body could easily be slipped unnoticed into the oily water on a black night.
The building was three stories tall, and a faint light shone in one of the top windows, outlining Malcolm's head and shoulders. He took his hat off and waved it.
There was nothing else to do but go inside and see the setup. They knew what I was and what my capabilities were, but Malcolm was supremely confident, and that meant a bad situation for Bobbi. I glared at the grinning, waving figure, then tore open the warehouse door and left it on the walk.
The stink of wet rotted wood, oil, and exhaust filled the place. The exhaust was new and had come from Malcolm's Ford, the engine was still hot and ticking. Next to it was a paneled truck backed up against a loading bay, and beyond that, a freight elevator. Somewhere a motor whined into reluctant life, and the elevator descended from the top floor. It leveled and stopped. The doors opened horizontally like a set of teeth.
”Hey, it's the death of the party,” said Malcolm, still grinning.
”Where is she?”
”I'll take you to her, Jackie boy.” He gestured and I stepped onto the split, cracked boards, and he sent us grinding upward, to the top floor. He wrenched the doors open and motioned me to follow, feeling safe enough to turn his back on me as we crossed a hundred feet of empty storeroom. The dirty windows overlooking the street and river had been tilted open in an attempt to make a cross breeze, but the place was still stuffy. We approached a line of doors against the far wall; three on the right, four on the left, in the center an arched opening to a stairwell. Light seeped from under two closed doors in the line. He went to the one next to the outside wall and opened it.
A bare bulb hanging from a plain wire and socket disclosed a small bare room. Broken gla.s.s was all over the floor, and empty panes framed the sky and some buildings across the river. In years long past, someone had had a nice view. Malcolm followed me in to stand by the windows. He looked out and down, waved once, then turned to me.
”Where is she?”
”One thing at a time.” He pointed at something on the floor. It was a flat parcel of folded brown paper. ”You check that out first.”
There was no reason to refuse; he had a purpose to his games and I had to play. I picked it up. It was very light and (he paper came apart easily. Bobbi's red silk dress slithered into my hands.
I started for him and he took an involuntary step back, then recovered. ”Don't do it, not 'til you see-”
My hands closed on his throat.
”See what, you s.h.i.+t?”
His eyes rolled toward the window and I followed their path.
The river was night black and smooth, stray lights caught in the surface barely moving. Below the window was a concrete loading pier with metal rings set in it. A length of rope was tied to one, and the other end went to an old flat-bottomed boat floating some thirty feet out. The woman Maria described crouched in the boat, leaning over its near side with her hand in the water. She was looking anxiously up at us.
”Let... go... now,” he gasped out urgently, and his distorted tone suddenly convinced me. I released him and backed away so that we were clearly separated.
The woman in the boat took her hand out of the water and pulled on another piece of rope as though for an anchor, but instead a head broke the surface. It shook and shuddered, water streaming only from the nose, because the mouth was taped shut. Her eyes were bulging with utter terror.
Oh, my G.o.d.
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