“You wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t wait for the garbage truck to show up.” Emma reached into the dumpster to grab Moreno by the front of her dress. “Talk. Now.”
“Fine. It’s not going to do you any good at this point anyway. The don’s got him on her plane out of here. You’ll never find him.”
“Give me his name.”
“Roberto Moreno. He’s my brother.” She smiled as she added, “He’s very good at what he does. Never failed on a job yet.”
“His only job from now on is going to be shelving books in the prison library.”
Moreno only laughed at this feeble threat. “Try to find him, hero. He’ll be long gone. The don’s always a step ahead of you. Just like that raid when you thought you got her. She’ll always be smarter than you.”
Emma could only say, “We’ll see.” Then she slammed the lid of the dumpster to make herself feel better. She’d leave it up to Moreno to find her way out. In the meantime, Emma would find Moreno’s brother—Steve’s killer.
***
Captain Kramer didn’t go back to the precinct after he wrapped up at St. Michael’s. Lieutenant Donovan maintained her surveillance on him, more convinced than ever that her captain was up to no good. She didn’t know why he had handled the Scherr murder, except that the don had commanded it. With Kramer on the case any sensitive evidence—like the rifle taken from the scene—would mysteriously disappear. Though she doubted even Kramer would be stupid enough to set fire to the evidence locker a second time.
The captain wound his way through the heavy traffic; sometimes he turned on his siren to get through the congestion. Lieutenant Donovan did what she could to maintain pace without using her siren so she wouldn’t alert him to a fellow cop on his tail. With her binoculars she managed to follow his trail from Robinson Parkway onto Bower Avenue. From there he parked in front of the main branch of the public library.
Kramer didn’t go into the library. He scurried along the front steps to an adjacent clothes shop. He didn’t go into this store either. Instead he went along the alley to the fire escape. Whoever he was here to meet had opened a window on the third floor so Kramer could duck inside. Lieutenant Donovan watched all this before she got out of the car.
It was risky to climb the fire escape. There was a good chance Kramer and his accomplice would hear her. At that point they would scatter or she might find herself at the barrel of a gun. But she might not get a chance like this again to catch the captain in the act of meeting one of the don’s flunkies.
Lieutenant Donovan jumped onto the ladder at the bottom of the fire escape. She made her way along it carefully to minimize any creaking or swaying. As she climbed up the steps, she took her pistol from her jacket. She wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Kramer if he was in the process of something illegal.
She hadn’t elicited any undue attention by the time she made it to the third floor. From beneath the window, she heard Kramer’s voice from inside, along with that of a woman. The woman’s voice sounded deep, as if she used one of those throat boxes the doctor warned Lieutenant Donovan she would someday need if she didn’t quit smoking.
“Then everything is proceeding as planned?” the woman said.
“Yes,” Kramer said.
“Excellent. Does anyone suspect anything?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“There’s this one pain in the ass. I took care of her.”
“Who?” Lieutenant Donovan heard Kramer give her name. She waited to hear what the mystery woman would say. “Don’t worry about her. You have performed well. I may have more work for you in the future.”
Lieutenant Donovan didn’t hear what Kramer said; she was already on her way back down the fire escape. She jumped from the ladder into the alley. Her right ankle stung for a moment, but she managed to drag herself behind a trio of trashcans. From there she watched as Kramer emerged from the window to climb down the fire escape. He looked right and then left, but didn’t bother to check behind the garbage cans.
Lieutenant Donovan waited for an hour; at one point she had to shoo a curious rat away with her pistol, but the woman didn’t make an appearance. Maybe the woman worked at the dress shop. Even if she did, there was little Lieutenant Donovan could do about it; she couldn’t burst in and demand every female employee speak in a low voice.
“I’ll find you,” the lieutenant said to herself. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
***
The trailer in Parkdale was crowded again, like when the Beech girls were kids. Only now their mother wasn’t around, something for which they were all grateful. Becky slept in her old room, which she had once shared with Brandi and Bambi, despite that it was hardly bigger than a closet. She lay on her old twin bed, the comforter with its cigarette burns and whiskey stains pulled up to her chin.
Her three sisters were out in the living room. They had tried to comfort her; even Brandi had shared her condolences and volunteered to make some coffee and sandwiches. For once in her life Becky didn’t want food. She wanted only to lie down on her old bed and sleep. She wanted to sleep forever so she could be with Steve. Her sisters probably sensed this, as they’d kept a close eye on her ever since they left the hospital.
In time she finally drifted off to sleep. As soon as she did, she returned to the hospital. Only this time there seemed to be no one around. She walked the empty corridors to search for someone to tell her where Steve was. She needed to see Steve.
“I’m here,” she heard his voice call out.
“Where?”
“Follow my voice.”
She followed his voice down the hallway, to a stairway. Steve’s voice directed her down the stairs. She went down flight after flight, until she worried she might wind up in the center of the earth, surrounded by magma. Finally, Steve told her to open the door. A sign on the door read, “Sub-subbasement.”
She walked along another corridor, the air so cold that she began to shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself to stay warm. “Steve? Where are you?”
“I’m in here,” he said.
She saw a pair of metal doors ahead. Steve’s voice called out from behind these. She charged through the doors and barreled into the room. At last she saw him. Then she screamed.
Steve lay on a gurney, his body white and his lips blue. The gash that ran along his chest had been crudely stitched together. Becky put a hand to her mouth; she felt an urge to throw up. When Steve sat up, she screamed again.
“Steve? But you’re dead! They said you died.”
“I am dead, Becky. You killed me.”
“No! I didn’t! It was an assassin. With a gun.”
“You knew what Emma was. You could have gone to the police. You could have let them deal with her.”
“I couldn’t. She’s my best friend.”
“You couldn’t and now I’m dead.” Though Steve’s body was cold, his eyes burned with hatred. “It’s your fault.”
“No, Steve, don’t say that. I love you.” She wrapped her arms around him and tried to kiss him, but his lips were so cold and stiff. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s something you can do.”
“What?”
“Destroy those responsible. Kill those who took me from you.”
“Kill them? But Steve—”
“Don’t you love me?”
“Yes, but—”
“You have to do this, Becky. For me.”
Becky thought about this for a moment. Then she looked into Steve’s eyes, the eyes she had fallen in love with. “I’ll try. But how?”
“Just follow my voice.”
She sat up in bed; sweat poured down her body. She looked around her childhood bedroom and wondered if it had all been a dream. Then she heard Steve’s voice whisper to her, “Go to the harbor. You’ll find your answers there.”
The harbor? She couldn’t imagine what she would find there. Still, she couldn’t refuse Ste
ve, the man she loved. She rolled off the bed and got to her feet.
Her sisters were gathered in the living room to watch the old television with a plate of sandwiches, as if it were a sleepover. Becky turned to her older sister. “I need your keys. I’m going out.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t care what you think. Give me your keys.”
“Why don’t I drive you—?”
“Just give me the damned keys!”
Bambi stood up and put her hands up like a naturalist trying to soothe a grizzly bear. “Becky, take it easy. We want to help you—”
“Shut up, you stupid little brat! All I want is the keys. Can’t you do that for me without all of this bullshit?”
Bambi started to cry. Another time Becky would have felt ashamed and stopped herself, but right now she didn’t care. She had to get to the harbor—for Steve. She pushed Bambi out of the way and then grabbed Britney by the front of her blouse. “Give me the fucking keys!”
Britney’s face paled and her eyes went wide. She nodded and reached one hand into her pocket for the keys to the Omni. Becky took these and then stomped outside. As she opened the Omni’s door, she heard a metallic click behind her. From experience, she knew someone had cocked a gun.
She turned and saw Brandi with a revolver; she had probably bought it for protection, but now it was aimed at Becky’s chest. “Put the keys down, Becky, and get back into the house.”
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“I should. It would serve you right for what you did to Britney and Bambi.”
“My husband died. What do you want me to do?”
“Get back in the house. We’ll look after you.”
“You three? You can’t even take care of yourselves. Especially not you.”
“I know how to take care of myself.” To prove this, Brandi fired a shot into the air. “That was a warning shot. The next one will be in your knee.”
“Go right ahead and shoot me. But if you do, shoot me right there,” Becky said. She pointed to her heart. She locked eyes with Brandi for a moment, long enough to know her sister wouldn’t shoot her. Brandi liked to look tough, but inside she had the sensitive heart of a little girl. “I’ll see you later.”
With that, she got into the car. As she left, she looked in the rearview mirror to see Brandi on the front steps, staring sadly after her. “I’m coming, Steve,” Becky whispered.
***
The harbor for Rampart City stretched for miles. There were the warehouses, the piers, and the seemingly endless rows of ships that ranged from tiny fishing boats to massive oil tankers. Steve’s voice guided Becky through the maze, to an empty pier near the far end of the harbor. There she stopped the Omni and got out. “Go to the end of the pier,” Steve urged her.
An ominous fog rolled in to shroud the end of the pier from sight. Becky started to wish she’d brought Brandi’s gun for protection. Steve’s voice wouldn’t guide her into a trap, would it? He loved her too much for that. Or did he? What if it wasn’t really Steve’s voice?
Becky stopped to look around her, but she didn’t see anyone. This is stupid, she told herself. She should go back to the trailer and apologize to her sisters. Then she should call Emma and apologize to her too—if Emma was at home. She was probably out after purse-snatchers or other petty thieves; anyone but Steve’s killer, the one she’d let get away at the church.
“It’s all up to you, Becky,” Steve’s voice urged her. She knew he was right; it was up to her. But to do what? She didn’t know how to fire a gun and she had never used a weapon on anyone before, not even her mother or her mother’s sleazy boyfriends, all of whom had surely deserved it. She wasn’t a killer. “Becky, please. You have to. For me.”
Becky trudged on through the fog, until the end of the pier came into sight. About the last person she expected to find there was Isis. The woman smiled brightly at her and then held out her hands. “I’m so sorry for what happened, Becky. I didn’t know you long, but I know you loved Steve the way that I love Dan.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help you. If you’ll let me.”
“But how?”
Isis put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. Her other hand she waved in front of Becky’s face. “Just relax, Becky. You can trust me. I can help you find justice for Steve.”
Becky wanted to argue, but she felt her entire body grow heavy. Her eyelids drooped and a yawn escaped her lips. She had to lean against Isis for support to stay upright. Had Isis drugged her?
“Don’t worry,” Isis hissed into her ear. “In the morning this will all seem like a dream. Now, go to sleep and we’ll begin.”
With a contented sigh, Becky collapsed against Isis.
The next morning she woke up in her bed in the trailer. “Where did you go last night?” Bambi asked her at breakfast while the other two eyed her suspiciously—especially Brandi.
Becky thought about this for a moment. She remembered she’d gotten into the car and driven somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where she had ended up. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think I just drove around. To think.”
“Did you have to be so dramatic about it?” Brandi snarled.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” Bambi said. “We understand. Or most of us.”
Becky shared a dry chuckle with Bambi and Britney and then her new life as a widow began.
Chapter 11
Emma had been fooled. The Scarlet Knight had arrived at the airport to find Don Vendetta’s private plane still in its hangar. She waited around most of the night before she went back to the Sanctuary. There she had hacked into the airport’s logs. The don’s plane wasn’t scheduled for any flights in the next three days. Moreno had lied to her.
It was probable Moreno’s brother had already fled the city by car, train, or boat while Emma watched the hangar. Steve’s killer had gone free. It was Emma’s fault. She shouldn’t have blindly trusted information from a hardened criminal, especially a hardened killer who was the sister of the assassin.
She carried the stench of failure around for two days. This stink made her eyes water as she parked in front of St. Vincent’s in Parkdale for Steve’s funeral. His parents had insisted on a Catholic mass, but St. Michael’s was still a crime scene. Emma thought that just as well as she didn’t want to return there any more than Becky would.
Emma hadn’t spoken to her friend during these last two days. She had talked with Bambi over the phone. Becky’s sister mentioned Becky had stolen Britney’s car and then disappeared all night. She returned the next morning without a word about where she had been. Then she took the suitcase she’d packed for her honeymoon and moved into the house she and Steve had purchased. Her sisters had tried to visit her there, but Becky refused to see them. Bambi couldn’t be sure Becky would even show up to her husband’s funeral.
The one person Emma least wanted to see at the funeral waited by the front door. Isis wore a black dress that barely covered her panties. Even more inappropriate was her smile as Emma climbed the steps. “That’s a nice dress,” Isis said. “Did you get it out of your aunt’s closet?”
Emma ran a hand over the black dress she had bought for Sarah MacGregor’s funeral five years ago. She had also worn it to Ian MacGregor’s funeral and then later to Aunt Gladys’s funeral. Emma had hoped that would be the last time she ever had to wear it. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“Becky invited me. I’m her new best friend.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t want to see you. She told me to get rid of you if you showed up.”
Emma’s body stiffened to challenge Isis to push her off the steps. “I’m not going anywhere. Where is Becky?”
“Inside. I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. She’s still mad that you killed her husband. It takes a while to get over something like that.”
“I didn’t kill Steve!”
�
��You didn’t try to save him either.”
Emma looked down at her feet. The stench of her failure came back to her. “No. I didn’t.”
“Maybe you should slink out of here on that toy of yours. I won’t tell Becky about it.” Isis reached out to put a hand on Emma’s arm. “She doesn’t need you anymore. I’m going to take care of her now in ways you never could.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She stormed into the cathedral, which looked eerily similar to St. Michael’s. Only this time in front of the altar was a coffin. Even from the back of the room she could see Steve’s face inside. From experience she knew the body would look stiff, pale, and unnatural despite the best efforts to make it lifelike. She considered backing out of the church, but she didn’t want to give Isis the satisfaction.
As Emma made her way slowly down the aisle, she saw Becky rise up from a pew in front. She looked like an angry storm cloud as she rushed down the aisle. Becky’s face turned the same shade of red as Emma’s armor as she approached her best friend—former best friend if Isis could be believed. At this moment Emma was inclined to do so.
“What are you doing here? I told her not to let you in!”
“Becky, please. Steve was my friend.”
“If you were his friend then you should have saved him instead of letting him die.” Becky lowered her voice to hiss, “Instead of killing him.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“He died because of you.” Becky started to sob. “I wish I never met you.”
“Becky—”
“I hate you!” She shoved Emma back against a pew. Other mourners turned to look at the scene, but none of them tried to intervene; perhaps they feared Becky’s wrath. “I never want to see you again. You understand? It should be you in that coffin, not him!”
“I’m sorry, Becky. I really am.” Emma turned away and walked quickly from the cathedral. She didn’t give Isis time to gloat as she ran down the steps, back to her motorcycle. With tears in her eyes, she kicked the engine to life and then roared away.
***
Despite her sisters’s advice, Becky didn’t stay another night in the trailer. Instead she moved into the house she and Steve had planned to share. She had teased him that she would have to carry him over the threshold since she was heavier than him. But now there was no need to worry about it. Steve was in the ground and she was alone.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 65