by Amy Vansant
“A lady was just looking for him. He wasn’t here then either.”
“Oh, okay. Should I wait? We had a meeting this morning, though we didn’t set an actual time—”
She held up an index finger. “Wait here for me?”
He nodded and thrust his hands in his pockets, rocking from toe to heel.
“You Ryan?”
Ryan turned to find a man standing behind the counter near the swinging door that separated the retail and work areas.
Firehead.
The man had dark skin, he guessed a very tan Latino, but his hair was light red. Stunned, he forgot to answer and the man repeated his question.
“I said, are you Ryan?”
“Oh, yes. Hi.” Ryan thrust out a hand. “And you are?”
“Pirro.”
Pirro didn’t raise his hand and after an awkward moment, Ryan let his drop.
“Is Louis here?”
“Louis asked me to take you back to the office when you got here.”
“Great. Sounds good. Lead the way.”
Pirro opened the door and Ryan followed him through the workers, retracing his steps from the previous day. Heading back into the belly of the building, his steps slowed.
Calm down. You found him. Just get a little more information.
Leaving the noise of the work floor behind, Pirro led Ryan down a hallway and opened a door. Ryan recognized it as the room in which he’d been held the day before.
“In there?” he said, stopping ten feet from where Pirro stood. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt as though the right side of his face throbbed just being near that room.
“You need to wait,” said Pirro, attempting what Ryan guessed was a smile.
You killed my son. I know you did.
Ryan pushed on. He rounded the corner into the room.
His old chair wasn’t empty.
A small woman sat in the wooden seat he’d once occupied, her arms tied to the armrests as his had been. The woman hadn’t been beaten, that he could see, but someone had tied a shirt sleeve around her face as a makeshift gag.
He recognized her immediately.
The woman from my walk. The woman I’ve been seducing with t-shirts.
In the twin chair sat Dallas, looking sheepish.
Ryan turned to face Pirro. “What is this?”
Pirro held a gun pointed at Ryan’s belly.
“Sit down.”
Dallas stood and stepped out of the way.
Ryan glanced from Dallas to Pirro and back again. He couldn’t take them both. Certainly not when one had a gun and the woman sat tied to a chair, helpless to defend herself.
He sat in the other chair expecting Dallas would tie him as well. Dallas didn’t move.
Pirro put his gun back in his waistband. “Dallas told me you were going to look at the books for Louis.”
Ryan remained silent. Frustration and rage roiled inside his brain. He’d found the man who killed Craig. All his planning. All his work—
Pirro leaned against the wall appearing pleased with himself. “You think I don’t know you. I know all about you. Once you start following my men, you’re asking me to know all about you. That isn’t something you should want.”
Ryan remained silent and Pirro continued.
“You’re that kid’s father. The stupid kid who saw what he shouldn’t have seen at the club.”
Ryan jumped to his feet and Pirro raised his gun.
“Sit down.”
Fists clenched, Ryan lowered into his seat.
“You’re not here for the books. You came looking for me, didn’t you?”
Ryan’s teeth gritted until he thought they would crack.
Pirro laughed. “Now you’re going to help me with the books, Daddy. You’re going to tell Louis everything is cool.”
Ryan found his voice. “Why would I help the man who killed my son?”
“Because if you don’t, this lady is dead.”
Ryan glanced at the gagged woman. Her eyes were teary and full of panic.
This is not how I planned our first date.
“Do you understand me? Don’t bother telling me you hardly know her. You refuse, and she dies, and you die either way.”
Ryan nodded.
“Louis is going to be here soon. He’s going to think you’re helping him. You’re helping me. Remember that or she’s dead. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Hey!” a voice echoed from the hall.
Pirro tilted back to see who approached. “Hey Louis.”
Pirro shot Ryan one final glare as Louis appeared in the doorway.
“Ryan, you came back. I—” Louis’s gaze fell on the gagged woman. He looked at Pirro. “What the—”
“It’s a present for you, boss.”
“A present?”
“Dallas told me you were going to have this guy look at the books.”
“I—yeah, I thought—he’s like an accounting genius. He’s going to help us cook the books, so to speak.”
Pirro cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You don’t think I’m doing a good job?”
“What? No. No it’s not that. It’s just—you know. You’re not an accountant. And I’ve got the dry cleaning and whatnot. It’s a lot for one person. You have enough on your plate, too.”
Ryan watched Louis fidget. He’d been right. Louis was the figurehead with the built-in money-laundering component. His last name opened doors in the narcotics community and his dry cleaning could easily launder money. Pirro needed him. Pirro had allowed the rich boy to think he was the boss, but he wasn’t. Not by a long stretch.
Louis scratched at his cheek, staring at the woman.
“So who is she?”
“She’s his girlfriend. We had to be sure he’s legit, right? If he tries anything, he knows we have her.”
“Right. Good thinking.”
Louis stared at the dark-haired woman with what looked like regret.
Ryan did the math. There was no way Pirro would let him or the woman live. The thug was going to let him look at the books and declare them perfect to put Louis’s mind at ease. Ryan knew the books wouldn’t be perfect. They’d show just how much money Pirro had been stealing.
When he was done, Pirro would kill him and the woman.
He couldn’t let them live.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“This is why I hadn’t told you about the Honey Badgers yet, you know,” said Declan as he parked his car down the block from Irony Dry Cleaners.
Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt. “Why?”
“Because of your new vocation. You already take too many risks. I don’t want you dragging me along and thinking you’re invincible.”
“Hm. Sort of full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“That’s not what I meant—”
Charlotte grinned and tapped his nose with her index finger. “Boop.”
He sighed. “I boop your nose. You don’t boop mine.”
“But you’re so adorable.”
Charlotte hopped out of the car and the two of them walked towards Irony. She knew the cops said they’d already checked the building, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Stephanie had no reason to lie about seeing Ryan tied up there. Maybe they’d seen the cops coming. They weren’t always subtle with their sirens and flashing lights. Maybe she and Declan could catch Louis and his men off guard.
The large, one-story brick building appeared quiet. Though it possessed a counter and a glowing “Open” sign, she suspected in this more industrial part of town, this branch of Irony served more as a cleaning hub than a customer center.
As they grew closer, Charlotte spotted an alley running along the left side of the building, large enough for a car to enter.
“This looks like it leads to the back of the building.”
“You don’t just want to go in the front and tell them you came to pick up your old man?”
Charlotte chuckled. “I don’t have my ticket.”
&nb
sp; They slipped down the alley and entered a fenced backyard largely consisting of dirt, cars and dumpsters. It appeared the employees used it for off-street parking.
Charlotte headed for the back door. She felt a hand grip her shoulder.
“Hold on there, Kojak. Let me go first.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I think I liked it better when you were hiding your past and let me take the lead.”
“I never let you put yourself in danger just to keep my secret.”
“You did a little.”
“Did not. How about this. Did you bring a gun?”
Declan had caught her off-guard. Though she had the permit, she hadn’t gotten used to the idea of carrying one.
“No. I haven’t decided if I’m more of a Batman or a Punisher.”
“Wow. Keeping your goals in check I see. You’ve gone from you know, I think I might want to be a detective to I’m basically a superhero in three months.”
“I didn’t say I’m a superhero, I just meant no-gun vs gun.”
“But a hero, either way.”
“Well sure, hey, here’s an idea. Can we try and find Ryan please?”
She gave him a playful shove towards the door.
Declan crept up the short stairs to the windowless back door and tried the knob.
“Locked.”
Charlotte grimaced. There were windows on either side of the door, but both hung too high to see through.
“If I stood on your shoulders, I could look in those windows.”
“If you stood on my shoulders? What are we, a circus act now?”
“Come on. There has to be a way to do it. I’ll take my shoes off. I know your main issue with the idea is getting footprints on your shirt.”
“Very funny. Fine. But then we need to leave this to the police.”
Charlotte offered a non-committal grunt and yanked off her sneakers as Declan took his position beneath the first window.
“How do we do this?” asked Charlotte.
“I’ll squat down, you climb up and stand on my shoulders and use the wall to keep your balance. Then I’ll stand and you walk yourself up the wall with your hands.”
“So you’re basically going to do squats with me on your shoulders.”
“Just the one.”
“Okay.”
With a little trial and error, suppressing giggles, Charlotte managed to perch on Declan’s shoulders.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.”
He stood and she worked her way up the brick wall with her palms to keep her balance as she rose.
“That was too fast,” she said, nearly toppling.
“The slower I rise the harder it is. You’re not one of those super petite girls, you know.”
“Are you kidding? I’m like a tiny little flower—”
Charlotte cut short. The window had a shade over it, but it was torn. Through the hole, she could see a dark-haired woman sitting in a chair. She had a white shirt tied around her head. It looked as though her hands were bound to the arms of the chair. Charlotte squinted. On the woman’s finger sat a large golden ring shaped like a frog.
Gloria.
How could Gloria be captured here too?
She gave the window a jerk and it opened easily. She thrust her top half through, hanging there while she tried to get the rest of herself in.
“Charlotte!” she heard Declan hiss beneath her.
Charlotte half-slithered and half-collapsed to the ground. Jumping to her feet, she searched for signs that someone had heard her. The room was empty but for Gloria, who’d heard the commotion of her entry and now strained to catch a glimpse.
Charlotte moved to her friend and pulled the makeshift shirt gag from her mouth.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She’d never seen Gloria so distraught. Her cheeks were streaked with tears that had fallen as far as they could before being absorbed by the gag.
“Oh Charlotte, I’m so glad you’re here. They’re going to kill us.”
“Us?”
“They have Ryan, too.”
Charlotte plucked at Gloria’s bindings, cursing to herself that she didn’t carry a pocketknife of some sort. She made a mental note to add that to the list of things she needed to carry at all times. No wonder Batman wore a utility belt.
“I need to let Declan in. Stay here.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“I won’t. Shh!”
Charlotte peeked through the room’s only door into an empty hallway. To the left, she could see down to a windowed door. Through it, workers pressed clothes. To the right, she saw the door to the backyard. She tiptoed down the hall to unlock and open the door. Declan was there looking irritated.
“There you are. I didn’t know if you’d crawled in the window or if someone had grabbed you.”
“Sorry. I found Gloria.”
“Gloria? Your client?”
Charlotte put her finger over her lips and motioned for him to follow her.
As they headed down the hall, a toilet flushed behind a door across from the room where Gloria sat.
Declan and Charlotte looked at each other. Charlotte scampered into the room with Declan on her heels and they shut the door.
“Declan, Gloria, my client. Gloria, this is Declan, my boyfriend.”
“I think we met before,” said Gloria.
“Okay, we’ll do the social stuff later.” Charlotte looked at Declan. “I need to get her untied. Do you have a knife?”
He shook his head.
“There’s no way to get these zip-ties undone without scissors or something. I’ve tried to chew through them before. It’s impossible.”
Declan frowned. “Should I ask when you were in a position to chew through zip-ties?”
“I was just seeing if it could be done. It can’t.”
Declan shook his head. “I worry about you sometimes.”
Gloria stomped her zip-tied little feet. “You have to hurry. Dallas will be back.”
“Dallas?” She looked at Declan and knew they both suspected that’s who they’d heard in the bathroom.
As if on cue, they heard a door open in the hallway and a man whistling.
“Here he comes,” said Charlotte.
“Don’t leave me here!” wailed Gloria.
The door began to open and Declan and Charlotte threw themselves against the wall behind it.
A skinny young man entered, fiddling with the leather belt that held up his baggy jeans. He looked up at Gloria.
“Hey, what happened to your gag—”
Declan reached past Charlotte and grabbed Dallas by his t-shirt with one hand, striking him hard in the face with his opposite fist.
Charlotte thought she saw Dallas’s eyes cross as he slumped to the ground.
Charlotte and Declan stared at him. He didn’t move.
“Did you kill him?” asked Charlotte.
Declan squatted beside the body, feeling for a pulse. “No. Glass jaw I guess. He’s unconscious.”
Charlotte shrugged. “That works. I need to get Gloria out of here.”
“He has a knife in his pocket,” said Gloria, nodding toward the motionless body. “I watched him pick his teeth with it. It’s one of those poppy kind.”
Charlotte squinted. “Poppy?”
Declan searched Dallas’s pockets and retrieved a switch blade. He hit the release and the blade popped forth.
Charlotte nodded. “Ah. Poppy.”
Declan cut the zip-tie binding Gloria to the chair and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Charlotte put her hand on Declan’s arm. “Gloria said Ryan is still here. She said they’re going to kill him.”
Declan scowled. “Don’t even think about going after him. Call the police. We need to get her out while we can.”
Charlotte nodded and retrieved her phone to dial 911 as they made their way out the back door. By the time they’d reached Declan’s car, they could hear sirens.
&n
bsp; “They’re coming,” said Charlotte.
Declan helped Gloria into his back seat. The tiny woman was shaking.
“We should take her to the hospital.”
Charlotte stared down the street in the direction of the dry cleaning. Just past that brick building, the nose of a car poked from an alley.
The hood had flames painted on it.
“That’s Pirro’s car,” said Charlotte, pointing.
Declan followed her direction. The car pulled out of the alley and tore off away from the dry cleaning.
“He’s getting away.”
“You want me to chase him?” asked Declan.
“Yes—we don’t have to catch him, but we can keep eyes on him.”
Declan shook his head. “I don’t know...” he mumbled, but he’d already pulled from the curb. They drove ten feet before a cop pulled in front of the dry cleaners, blocking their way. Declan attempted to circumvent the officer, but a mob of workers poured from the building, filling the streets and making it impossible to go anywhere without hitting someone.
“He got away,” said Charlotte.
Declan put his car into park.
Chapter Thirty
“You again,” said Frank.
Charlotte grinned. “I told you I’d be coming by for an update.”
An ambulance had arrived on scene at Irony to take Gloria in for a checkup. Other than some friction burns on her wrists and shot nerves, she seemed fine.
Declan needed to go back to work, so Charlotte dropped him off—promised she’d stay out of trouble—and borrowed his car to visit Frank, her direct hotline to the police. She needed to know if they’d caught Pirro.
Frank tapped his computer keyboard to spring the darkened screen to life. “Yeah, yeah. I called them for you. They found that car with all the flames and plaid you told them about.”
Charlotte perked. “They did? Did they find Ryan? He wasn’t in the building. Pirro must have taken him hostage.”
Frank shook his head. “No people, just the car.”
Charlotte slumped. “Where’d they find it?”
“Out off of route sixty. Not far from Jackie’s disco.”
“How could they just disappear?”
Frank shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, from what I understand there were two sets of footprints, but they lost them in the swamp.”
Charlotte stared at the floor, thinking.