Part 30 (1/2)

”Stay with me, Kramer,” I ordered. ”You son of a b.i.t.c.h, you'd better not give up and die on me now. What in blazes were you thinking coming here alone?”

His eyes blinked open briefly and then closed again. ”Hurts,” he murmured. ”Hurts like h.e.l.l.”

Mel whipped off her dove-gray blazer and put it under his head. ”Stay here,” she told me. ”I've got a blanket in my trunk.” She took off like a shot.

”I'm sorry...” Kramer began.

”Forget about it,” I said. ”Don't talk. Save your strength. The ambulance will be here soon.”

Mel returned a minute or so later carrying a plaid wool blanket which she unfolded and carefully placed over Kramer's body. His eyes blinked open again as he felt the weight of the blanket. ”Catch him?” he mumbled.

”Not yet,” Mel said. ”They're looking. He evidently had a boat of some kind moored out back. He took off in that. The uniforms have called for more help-a helicopter, a police boat, and a canine unit. Don't worry. They'll find him.”

A wailing siren announced the arrival of an aid car and soon a troop of EMTs jogged through the door.

”Over here,” Mel shouted, standing up and waving. ”We're over here.”

Within seconds, the latex-gloved EMTs took over. Now that the crisis was out of my hands, I moved to one side, feeling surprisingly shaky.

”Are you all right?” Mel asked.

I nodded.

”You should probably go wash up,” she said. ”You're covered with blood. The rest room's right over there.”

She was right. There was lots of blood. I went into the rest room and spent the better part of five minutes letting the soap and water sluice over my hands, but the blood didn't want to let go. The water in the bowl turned pink time after time. Even when I could no longer see it, I knew it was still there-on my hands and on my clothing. When I finally exited the rest room, Mel was waiting outside. Her dove-gray outfit and white blouse were as bloodstained as mine. Clearly we were a matched pair.

”That's what you get for wearing good clothes so early in the day,” I told her. ”You're a mess, too.”

”According to my mother, I always was,” she said.

I looked around the interior of the warehouse. The place was crawling with cops, in uniform and out, but the EMTs and Kramer were nowhere in sight.

”Where'd they take him? Harborview?”

Mel nodded. ”I told Detective Monroe, the lead investigator, that's where we'd be going, too. I gave her our cell-phone numbers.”

I remembered Sasha Monroe's first day in uniform. Now she was a lead investigator. Feeling old as the hills didn't improve my frame of mind.

”Let's go then,” Mel said.

As we drove out through the gate, the neighborhood was parked full of patrol cars, but somehow Bill Winkler had given them the slip.

”What the h.e.l.l was Kramer doing there alone?” I demanded.

Mel laughed. ”Are you trying to tell me you've never done anything stupid?”

”Well...”

”We were pus.h.i.+ng him,” she said. ”I'm sure he had access to the same phone records we have. The only difference is he went through them, and we haven't. He wanted to ace us out of solving the case. Once he figured out what was up, he didn't want to wait around until any of his guys showed up.”

”And besides,” I added, ”he's invincible.”

”Exactly,” Mel agreed.

The two of us were already in the ICU waiting room-the same waiting room I'd occupied the night before-when Kramer's wife, Sally, and his daughter, Sue Ann, showed up. Sue Ann was fifteen and could have been a dead ringer for Heather Peters, except Sue Ann's hair was green.

When they first saw the blood on my clothing both Sally and her daughter flinched away from me. Once we'd all been introduced, though, Sally went off to see what she could learn about her husband's condition. I could see Mel watching Sue Ann as the two Kramer women walked away.

”That's one reason I never wanted to have kids,” Mel said. ”They always have to rebel against their parents. Her green hair must drive her father absolutely nuts. Think about it. If I'd ever had kids, they probably would have turned out to be Democrats.”

”Would that have been so bad?” I asked.

Mel scowled at me. ”Of course it would have been bad,” she returned as though my question were too ignorant to answer. ”Only a true independent could even think such a thing.” And then, after a pause, she added, ”I may have to give up on you after all.”

Sally Kramer returned a few minutes later. ”The doctors are resectioning his bowel, so it's going to take time. Detective Monroe called while we were on our way here and told us what you'd done. Thank you, Mr. Beaumont. Thank you so very much.”

”It's Beau,” I said. ”And you're welcome.”

Rea.s.sured that Kramer might make it, Mel was impatient to leave the hospital. ”Since it's going to be a while before we hear any more, let's go home and change,” she suggested. ”I'll drop you off.”

As we rode down in the elevator and walked through the lobby, people caught sight of the blood and slunk out of our way as though we were carriers of some dreadfully contagious disease.

”Are we still on for the funeral?” Mel asked when she pulled up and stopped in front of Belltown Terrace.

”We can go,” I said, ”but with everything else that's going on, we probably won't have a chance to talk to Raelene today. And I think I'm going to grab some shut-eye first. I'm dead on my feet.”

”Me, too,” Mel said. ”I'll call you at one, and I'll be here to pick you up by one-thirty.”

I was too d.a.m.n exhausted to argue. ”Fine,” I said. ”See you then.”

”Whooey, Mr. Beaumont!” Jerome Grimes exclaimed as he opened the door to let me into the lobby. ”If you don't look like you've been in a h.e.l.l of a fight.”

I was too tired to venture that old joke about how bad the other guy must look. I was glad none of my fellow residents rode with me in the elevator as I went upstairs. Once in my apartment, I undressed and stood in a hot shower for the better part of twenty minutes. After that I fell into bed.

Good to her word, Mel called me at the stroke of one. ”I'm just now leaving my apartment,” she said. ”I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

I didn't bother telling her to drive carefully. It wouldn't make any difference. I was waiting in the lobby, dressed but barely conscious, when she pulled up half an hour later. ”Sorry it took so long,” she said.

”For most people it is a thirty-minute drive,” I pointed out.

Mel gave me a look, and we headed for Saint Mark's Cathedral. ”Any word on Winkler?” she asked.

I shook my head. ”He gave everybody the slip. When I last talked to Detective Monroe, she was still on the scene. They found Winkler's boat, but they haven't found him. They're still looking. Detective Monroe says the crime scene folks are there examining the blood spatter. Her guess is that's where Wink Winkler bit it. She also says it wasn't a suicide.”

”His son pulled the trigger?”

”Presumably. Monroe wants us to get together with Kendall Jackson and Hank Ramsdahl after the funeral. I told her that would be fine.”

Mel nodded. ”What about Kramer?” she asked.