“Yes?” she said in a small voice.
“Lady. Do you believe Jesus Christ died in order to save your immortal soul?”
“Jeepers creepers!” Pix exclaimed when the two heavies had gone. “You can’t escape Jehovah’s Witnesses. Even out in a parking lot in the middle of the night.”
Cody pulled a smile. “At least they weren’t peddling sex or pushing drugs.”
“No, only religion.” Pix folded her arms again, lips pouting sulkily. “Are we ever gonna sleep tonight?”
Grace sighed wearily. “Maybe we should move on, Cody?”
“But where?”
“There must be somewhere peaceful in Hollywood.”
“Yeah.” Pix sneered. “The graveyard.”
“Pix, how many times have I told you not to…”
Christ on a motorcycle, Cody thought sourly. Here we go again. The two sisters had been at each other’s jugulars ever since they’d started this journey… this crazy journey. Yeah, the future wasn’t so rosy now. Gloomily, he watched prostitutes strutting their stuff on the road by the lot. Johns came… then they came… then they went.
If I have to spend another night in this truck with those two, I’ll go nuts. Grace is beautiful. She’s the one I want to stay with… but with that kid sister tied to them like a ball and chain? Oh, brother.
Something clunked the side of the car. Startled, Cody looked sideward to see a brown face looking in at him. He recoiled from the eyes.
Hell.
He’d never seen eyes like that.
Not natural eyes anyway.
They sent his heart racing.
He heard Pix and Grace react in fear too, giving squeals of fright.
A finger tapped on the glass. A hard clicking sound as the nail struck. Cody looked into the eyes. They shone pure silver. They were alien eyes that made him think of some creature from a monster movie. The voice that came from the mouth wasn’t at all extraterrestrial.
“Hey, you guys,” came a drawl. “It’s time we had a talk.”
Cody rolled down the window.
“You’ve been sitting out here some time,” said the guy with the silver eyes. “What ya doin’?”
Sighing, Cody repeated their story. “We’re just trying to get some sleep.”
“Sleep?”
“Yes, we haven’t anywhere to go.”
“Motels are plentiful, y’know?”
“I know.”
“So rent a room.”
“We don’t have any money.”
“That a fact?”
“We only got in today.”
The man with the silver eyes nodded. Cody could see now that the eyes were silver only because of silver contacts. So no close encounter of the third kind tonight.
Not that.
Worse. Far worse.
A close encounter of the Colt .38 kind.
Cody saw the man pull aside the bottom of his jacket, to reveal the black metal butt of the firearm jutting from the pants.
“I think maybe you’re sussing out Andre’s territory.”
“We’re not cops,” Cody said quickly.
“Who said you were?”
“But you suggested—”
“I suggested nothing about the police force, man. What I am suggesting is you might be thinking of moving into my territory.” He pronounced “territory” with in an easy drawl, like each syllable was a separate word: “terry… tory.”
“No. We’re only staying here tonight.”
“But figuring to do some dealing, huh?”
“No.”
“What? Coke? Grass? Speed?”
“No.” Cody sounded annoyed now. He bunched his fist on the steering wheel. “Now go away and leave us alone.”
“Oh, big guy.”
“Listen, we’ve just about had enough tonight.”
“Listen, baby, you haven’t had nearly enough.” He grinned, the silver eyes catching the moonlight. “If you’ve come looking for trouble, you’ve come to the right place.”
“Leave us alone.”
“Or?”
“Leave us. I’m warning you.”
“You’re doing the warning?” The man’s hand went to his pistol.
Pix shrieked. “He’s going to shoot us.”
“He’s not,” Cody said, angry.
The guy grinned again. “So which of you two are right?” He looked at Grace. “And you, pretty lady, what do you say?”
Cody opened the door, looking as if he was about to take on the guy with the silver eyes.
The guy stepped back, nodding. “So you do want to muscle in on my territory.”
“No, we’ve had a hell of a day. We want to be left alone.” Cody growled now.
Grace reached across and grabbed Cody’s arm. He was polite, he was slow to anger, but once his fuse was burning… well, watch out.
“Leave it,” Grace pleaded.
“But we’ve been pushed around by every jerk in L.A.” Cody quivered with rage. “I’m not taking it anymore.”
“But he’s got a gun,” Pix cried. “He’ll shoot you, Cody.”
“She’s right, Cody,” Grace said. “Get back in. We’ll drive away. Find somewhere quiet.”
The man rested his hand on the gun and gave a shrug. Okay, so what’s it going to be?
“All right.” Cody closed the door. “We’re leaving.”
“You think I’m going to let you just go after you’ve insulted me? Tried to walk into my territory?”
“I did no such thing.”
“You sure did, baby.”
“Look. We don’t want any trouble. We just want to find somewhere quiet—”
“But you’ve got trouble. You’re in Andre’s territory now. You insult me to my face. ‘Jerk’ you called me. I want reparations, you hear? Reparations.”
“We’re awfully sorry,” Grace placated. “We really are. We’re tired. We’ve driven—”
“Not good enough.”
“Well, what is good enough?” Cody clenched his fist again, his face burning with anger.
All that shit today.
Now this.
A jerk.
A jerk with a gun, though. How dangerous is that?
“Tell you what, baby.” The man’s eyes glinted silver. “I’m a reasonable guy. The girl in the back. She gives me a good blow and I’ll consider that full and good reparation.”
Pix cried out. “No, I’m not doing that.”
“That’s the price, babes.” He eased the gun from his pants.
“No way,” Cody said. “You’ll have to put a bullet in me first.”
“Suits me.”
Pix grabbed Cody by the shirt collar, shook hard. “Cody, you can’t let him make me!”
“She’s only sixteen, she’s just a kid,” Cody said.
“Kids younger than her working these streets.”
“Cody?”
“Now I’m gonna unzip my fly.”
“Cody!”
“Moisten those lips for me, baby.”
“No.” Pix bunched herself into the corner of the seat, arms tightly around her knees. Eyes wide and scared, she shook her head muttering, “No, no, no…”
The guy pointed the gun into Cody’s face.
“Listen up, babes. That’s the price of you driving away from here. The girl in the back with the tight little mouth’s gonna give me the best blow job in town.”
“No, she won’t,” Grace said.
“Oh, won’t she?”
“No,” Grace said firmly. “I will.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Through the peephole, Susan saw a swarthy, black-haired man with a grim face. She opened the door.
He lunged into her. She stumbled backward, and the man fell to his hands and knees. Susan landed on her back.
In the doorway stood Mabel Rudge, hunched slightly, grinning and panting. She held a butcher knife.
“Hi, petunia,” she said, and pushed the door shut with the heel of her foot.
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Susan climbed to her feet. She stood motionless. “What do you want?”
The man started to get up. Mabel kneed him over. “Stay down, fella, or I’ll slit your gizzard.”
“I’ll happily leave,” he said.
“Lay on your back and shut up.”
He obeyed.
Mabel stepped past his feet. She held the knife out, waving it in small circles.
Susan backed away.
“Know what’s gonna happen to you, whore? I’m gonna cut your face—gonna cut your nose off, that’s what.”
Susan glanced at the bathroom door. It was open a crack.
“That’s for starters. I’m gonna make you look so bad Tag Parker’ll puke when he sees you.”
“Tag!”
Mabel charged.
Susan dodged and flung a lamp in her path. Mabel kicked it aside. Snarled like a dog. Raised the blade.
“Freeze!” Tag shouted. He stood in the bathroom doorway, pistol aimed.
“Gonna fix her!” Mabel yelled. She ran at Susan.
“Stop!”
“Shoot her!”
He didn’t fire. His eyes weren’t on Mabel, but on the dark man dashing across the room.
The man sprang onto Mabel’s back. She plunged forward, arms swinging, blade flashing. Susan leapt out of the way, and the big woman plowed into the sofa with an “Umph!” The man, still on her back, grabbed her right arm. He twisted it. Mabel growled and dropped the knife.
Susan rushed forward. She grabbed the knife and backed away.
Mabel, no longer struggling, lay motionless beneath the man. She was half on the couch, her face pressed to its rear cushion, her knees on the floor. The seat of her grimy dress was torn, exposing a strip of doughy buttock. It dimpled. Susan looked away.
Tag came forward, holstering his revolver.
“Why didn’t you shoot Mabel?” Susan asked.
“I might’ve hit our friend here.”
The small man looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Imad Samdall.”
“Taggart Parker. This is Susan Connors.”
“Ah, yes. Miss Connors. And this is Mabel?” Reaching back, he patted her soft rump. It quivered.
“Hands off,” she muttered.
He smacked the back of her head. “Shut up. You threatened my life. Because of that I need not be civil to you.” He climbed off Mabel’s back. “Sit on the couch and be silent.”
“You fuckin’…”
He slapped her. This time her whole face quivered with the force of the blow.
Mabel’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth shut. She turned around and flumped down onto the couch. This time she sat there. Said nothing. Her cheek began to burn bright red from the slap.
“You’ve really done it this time, Mabel,” Tag told her. “Assault with a deadly weapon.”
“I just wanted to throw a scare into her.”
“Yeah.” He stepped toward the phone.
“Oh, you ain’t gonna arrest me, Tag?”
“You’ll go to jail for this one.”
“I didn’t hurt nobody. I just did it for you.”
“I warned you not to interfere.” He reached for the phone, and flinched as it rang the second he touched the handset. He picked it up. “Hello? Yes, she is. Just a moment, please.” He nodded at Susan.
She took the phone. “Hello?”
“Susan? This is James Blumgard. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I received a most disturbing call from the police department. I’m sure there’s some mistake. They’re bewildered themselves. They seem to think, however, that our mummy has been involved in several killings that occurred tonight.”
“Involved?”
“They apparently believe Amara committed them. I know that sounds ridiculous. I don’t know how they could even suggest such a thing. It appears, however, that one of the officers actually confronted the killer. He’s convinced it was a mummy. What’s more, he’s convinced it was Amara. Now maybe this was someone in disguise. I can hardly believe otherwise, though the officer insists that isn’t the case. At any rate, the police would like a representative of the museum to be on hand as a consultant and so forth. I thought you would be the logical choice, since the Callahan collection falls within your area.”
“What would I be doing?”
“They’d like you on the scene. I realize this may be an imposition…”
“No. You were right to call. I do have a problem, though. Maria’s off for the night, and I don’t have anyone to leave Geoffrey with.”
“Perhaps you could take him along. I’m sure there’s no danger. The police simply want you to interview the officer involved; to establish whether his description does, in fact, fit Amara. They may ask for suggestions and so forth. I doubt it will take more than an hour.”
“Well…”
“I would go myself, but you’re far more conversant on the subject.”
“I’ll go,” she said.
“I appreciate this very much, Susan. Let me give you the address.” He told it to her and she copied it. “Keep me informed.”
“I will.”
“Good night now.”
“Good night.” She hung up, turned to Tag. “That was Blumgard. There’ve been some killings and get this… the police think Amara’s involved.”
“As the perpetrator?”
She nodded.
Imad frowned and walked toward the door.
Susan said, “I have to go over and talk to the police. Will you come?”
“Of course.”
Imad knelt near the door and picked up a black notebook.
“We’ll have to take Geoffrey.”
“Before you leave,” Imad said, “it would be wise for you to read this.”
“Now? I don’t think there’s time for—”
“Please. It is important.”
“What is it?”
“The journal of Robert Callahan. I was his ward and companion, you see, before his demise. He left instructions that this be placed in responsible hands should Amara walk. Unless I am mistaken, that situation has developed.”
“It’s walked before?” Tag asked.
“Indeed.”
He gave the journal to Susan. She flipped through it, glancing at the handwritten pages. “It’s awfully long.”
“It tells you many things you must know.”
“Why don’t you come along and fill us in on the way?”
“I’m sorry, no. I wish to have no further dealings in the matter. If you would permit me, however, I’ll assume responsibility for Mabel.”
“Can you handle her?” Tag asked.
“Most certainly. We could telephone the police from here if you like. If not, I’ll be pleased to escort her elsewhere.”
Susan glanced at Tag.
Tag nodded.
“You’re welcome to stay.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Cody looked through the windshield. The lights revealed the road as it twisted ahead through the trees. At either side of them, the rocky walls of the canyon rose up into the night sky. He drove without speaking. Beside him, Grace sat gazing out the side window. In the back Pix, flat on her back, stared at the truck’s grimy ceiling.
He downshifted as the road in front ran downhill. The gully widened a little. Here there were only rocky outcrops and trees and brushes. No houses. No gas stations. This was a dark slice of wilderness tucked away in the corner of L.A.
At last Pix asked, “Grace… how could you do that?”
“Pix,” Cody warned.
“Shit… you sucked the guy’s dick.”
Grace said nothing. Just stared at passing trees.
“You didn’t even know him. And you let him put his dick in your mouth.”
Grace still said nothing. Jerkily, she grabbed the water bottle and drank from it, her pink lips tight round the end of the wide neck of the bottle; her mouth forming a perfect seal. Cody found himself looking at her mouth, unable to shake the memory of what had happened half
an hour ago.
“Afterwards, why didn’t you spit?” Pix asked.
“Pix,” Cody said. “Your sister did what she had to do, okay?”
“I think I’d have chosen the shooting.” Pix shook her head. “Oh, man… he’d even pierced the end of it… a gold stud.”
Cody glanced back. “Don’t talk about it. Your sister doesn’t need reminding.”
“But to suck a stranger’s dick like that. Geez, Grace, I thought he was gonna choke you, it went in so—”
“Pix, enough now.”
Cody glanced at Grace. Still she hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t spoken since the guy… since she’d… oh, shit. He didn’t want to activate the mental playback.
“Couldn’t you have jumped him, Cody? You yellow or something?”
“He had a gun, Pix.”
“Yeah, but he was distracted, you dork.”
“And you think I could have grabbed the gun off him while—”
“Yeah, if you’d got your ass in gear.”
“Hell, you try pulling a stunt with a gun in your face.”
“While he had his dick in my sister’s mouth you could have done something.”
“Yeah, slugged him with the cracker box maybe.”
“But then maybe you enjoyed watching him unload himself into Grace’s mouth. I saw you getting all hot and sweaty and—”
“STOP!”
Cody’s head spun as Grace shouted.
“Stop the truck!”
“Don’t worry about Pix. She’ll be quiet from now on, won’t—”
“No! It’s not that. Look!”
“What?”
“Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“Stop the damn truck and look!”
He braked.
“What’ve you seen, Grace?”
“There, through the trees… no, further to the right.”
Pix sounded worried. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Cody looked.
Saw nothing.
Nothing except trees and boulders and the rock walls of the canyon. There were no houses, no buildings, no cars—zilch.
Cody began, “Grace, I still don’t see—”
“I saw a woman in the trees.”
Pix snorted. “Forget it. We’ve had enough stranger danger for one night.”
“No, it was a woman. She was holding a baby.” Grace stared into the darkness. “She was hurrying.”
TO WAKE THE DEAD Page 27